


Echo

by derangedhyena



Series: A Silver Lining [2]
Category: Zoids (Anime & Toys)
Genre: Everyone Has Issues, Post-Canon, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Zoids NC0, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derangedhyena/pseuds/derangedhyena
Summary: It all should have been over, hundreds of years ago. Yet the echoes still remain. The Berserk Fury's destruction leads to discoveries no one expected - or wanted. Sequel toKnives and Gunfights.
Series: A Silver Lining [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043307
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Zoids Fan Works





	1. Cover




	2. Chapter 1

Brad stood frozen in place, his hands and the lit end of his cigarette trembling in the dark. 

_~Sshh.~_ Came a whisper into his mind. The silhouette of a green-eyed Organoid was obvious in the moonlight.  
  
Brad had stepped out for the cool night air and to calm down. Not this.  
  
He glanced in through the sliding glass door. Though the man’s mind drew a complete blank about what to do personally, his chest tightened with the knowledge Naomi was nearby, asleep, vulnerable.  
  
 _~Lad, ye’d both be dead if I were here to cause harm.~_ _  
__  
_Brad looked back. An unfamiliar voice and feel. Not the Fury. Not Zero. Apparently, yet another of these things decided to exist.  
  
“Doesn’t really make me feel better.”  
  
 _~Ah mean… I’ve been watchin’ ye both for a bit now.~_ The Organoid raised both brows mentally, implying more than a casual voyeurism. _~Thought I’d introduce myself.~_  
  
Brad just stared, going for an unsteady drag on the cigarette. The two studied each other through the curls of exhaled smoke.  
  
_~Name’s Ambient. Yours?~_  
  
There was silence as Brad debated whether to engage or not.  
  
“Brad.”  
  
 _~....isn’t that the human word for’a wee lil’ nail?~_  
  
Brad slow-blinked. “What do you want?”  
  
 _~Ah, t’talk. And maybe your help.~_  
  
“Don’t do charity.” Brad looked away and pointedly glared into the distance. “And I really don’t know where all you fucking things keep coming from. But go back there. I want quiet.”

Ambient dimmed its optics and proceeded to stand silently for several minutes. Brad calmed down after the span, flicked his spent cigarette to the concrete, and immediately went for another. He continued to fixedly stare at the distant city lights, as if ignoring the seven-foot-tall creature on the patio might make it stop existing.  
  
 _~They hurt ye, didn’t they?~_  
  
Blue eyes irritably snapped back to the Organoid. 

With the vaguest of reminders he was seized by pain he’d been desperately trying to block out. It came just as fresh and raw as when One first sunk its fangs in. There was nothing to bandage, no wound to tend. Just a searing pain and a sickening knowledge that a beast had wolfed down part of him, and he wasn’t getting it back.  
  
Brad glared at Ambient, furious that these things could simply glimpse everything - things he worked hard to keep hidden. He just wanted to forget what all had happened, and pretend things were okay. Maybe, then, they eventually would be. “Fuck off. You don’t know anything.”  
  
Ambient met his glare directly. _~Och. I know a lot more than ye do.~_  
  
“Fuck. Off.”

The Organoid sighed. _~If ye donnae wish t’talk, that’s fine. Can ye at least help me out? Then uh’ll be on my way.~_ _  
__  
_A long exhale. “What help?”  
  
~ _Ah’ve a bit of a wound I cannae properly see to.~_  
  
Brad eyed the creature. Cracks, scuffs, gouges - damage of all kinds marred its body, visible to him even in the dark. Its asymmetrical head pointed to the loss of half a brow ridge, at least. “A bit of a wound? You look like you fucked a blender.”  
  
 _~Eh.~_

Brad flinched at the sharp, soft hiss of the Organoid’s paneling disengaging. Ambient parted its chest panels just enough to allow a slight view. _~That stuff's nae matter. These parts, though...~_  
  
This Organoid’s hollow innards looked somewhat like One’s. The basic idea was the same, but this creature looked even worse inside than it did externally. A thick, unhealthy-looking bronze mucus was congealed variously throughout it. Silver blood collected on the lower edges of the split paneling, and began to freckle the concrete.  
  
The creature motioned with a claw, and Brad saw where the blood originated from. The remains of a relatively large-caliber bullet were lodged in the back of its chest, surrounded by more filmy bronze mess.  
  
Pointed out, the related piercing damage in its armor was plain to see as well. As Brad looked over what was presented, he noticed a _lot_ of small pockmarks and holes - damage from gunshots, countless smaller guns. This thing had been shot at. A lot.  
  
 _~Ah’d really appreciate it. It stings and I cannae get at it.~_  
  
“Who’s been shooting at you?”  
  
 _~Ah, y’know. People who donnae like me on their porches.~_ _  
_  
Brad sighed, stared in thoughtful silence for a moment, then went inside.

Shooting at the damn thing didn’t seem like a bad idea, apartment complex aside. Naomi owned many firearms and he had two of his own: he briefly debated if any of them had the potential to take this creature out. Or at least dissuade its presence sufficiently to outweigh the issues with using that kind of force here.  
  
...but it hadn’t really _done_ anything. Except show up.  
  
He reached no real conclusion, becoming aware again of the dull ache in his head and chest. If it was the Fury who’d showed up wanting his help… what would he do?  
  
Several tense minutes later he returned with a multitool. 

Ambient regarded him carefully.

“Lie down. And stay quiet.”

Ambient was slow and hesitant to comply, but did. It watched Brad closely. 

With several more minutes of considerable effort Brad removed the bullet, stealing quick glances to keep an eye on the Organoid the entire time. Ambient gave a grunt of relief, and immediately snapped shut when Brad’s hands were clear, righting and quickly stepping back.  
  
However fleeting, the vulnerability caught Brad’s attention. He stared at the creature’s bright green optics, and felt a deep, deep twinge.  
  
These things could feel vulnerable.  
  
 _~Of coo’urse we can, idiot.~_ In one smooth motion the Organoid whirled, slamming its tail into the man and pinning him against the patio wall with a _thump_ . Brad felt the cold pressure of the creature’s bladed tail on his bare abdomen. _~How’d ye feel if it was your belly open t’the wolves, eh?~_  
  
“ _Brad._ Don’t move.”  
  
Both Brad and Ambient glanced to see a very, very angry-looking Naomi pointing a pistol at the Organoid’s face. 

Ambient sighed.  
  
 _~Y’see what I mean about the guns?~_  
  


* * *

  
Naomi couldn’t hear Ambient protesting and kept the gun trained on him. Brad could hear the Organoid, but was busily trying to remind Naomi it was _probably_ a bad idea to fire guns in an apartment. Ambient kept insisting that it wasn’t actually going to do anything, and all three were trying to be as quiet as possible as they stumbled their way off the porch and back into the bedroom.  
  
Brad quickly shut the sliding door and closed the thick curtain, whipping back to the group. He slapped a light on. 

Naomi scowled. “What part of ‘don’t move’ did you not understand, Brad?”  
  
“Naomi. I think it’s okay.”  
  
“Bullshit. This thing was at the Blitz Base. Everyone lost their minds. Is it dangerous?”  
  
“I don’t think s-” Brad parsed the first part after a second and squinted at Ambient. “Were you?”  
  
Ambient picked the man’s brain and came up with the association, the Liger Zero. _~Ahh. Yes. Yes.~_  
  
“Why?”  
  
 _~Uhh…~_  
  
Naomi looked between the two impatiently, but lowered the gun. “Please don’t tell me this is like that shit with Bit and the Liger. Does this thing talk or whatever too?”  
  
“Do you want the answer you just explicitly asked me not to give you, or…?”  
  
“Goddamnit.” Naomi returned to the bed and shoved the pistol back in the nightstand. Brad hadn’t realized she _kept_ one in the nightstand, and stared at this.  
  
 _~She’s feisty. And looked like she fucks real nice. Good choice’a mate.~_  
  
Brad cut his eyes at the Organoid. “I don’t think I asked your opinion.”  
  
 _~Well you’re gettin’ it. Let’s be pals.~_  
  
“I helped you. One time.” Brad held up a finger for emphasis. “I didn’t say we’re pals.”  
  
There wasn’t quite the same feeling as with the Liger or Berserk Fury. But that distinct heaviness, a _desire_ , was there. Less strong, it was possible to quash and he could really do without all of this. Brad sat on the edge of the bed and made a dismissive motion.  
  
Ambient just stared, unblinking.  
  
Naomi was burying her face in a pillow in an attempt to cancel reality, but lightly kicked Brad in the side. “ _You sound crazy._ ”  
  
He screwed up his face and looked at her for a second before realizing what she meant: half of a conversation out loud. “Oh. Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry. Make it go away!”

Brad looked back at Ambient and shrugged. “You heard her. Scram.”  
  
Ambient audibly sighed and vanished from the room.  
  
But it was still somewhere nearby. Brad could _feel_ the Organoid watching him, even as he lay back down beside Naomi, who’d glanced to verify that the creature was gone. Brad loosely put his arms around her, and she relaxed into him. There were several minutes of reassuring silence, during which Naomi went back to sleep.  
  
Despite knowing Ambient was still around, Brad didn’t feel particularly threatened by it. He closed his eyes and started to drift off too.  
  
~ _So? What d’ye say? Pals?~_


	3. Chapter 2

_**A week ago.** _   
  
  


The air still hung acrid with the scents of smoke, melt, and char. The night’s cool breeze knocked down an occasional loose fragment from the edges of the breached hangar walls.  
  
The Liger Zero turned its head to each sound, wary and watchful. It was lying down, forepaws outstretched and protectively encircling Bit, Vega, and their Organoids - all of who were exhausted and asleep.  
  
The night’s chill had long crept into Sara, but she hadn’t moved. She’d just been watching Vega for hours now, silent. He was curled up in a fetal position, tucked tightly to the black Organoid.  
  
After quite some time Sara cautiously approached and knelt, running her fingers through Vega’s silky hair.  
  
One stirred and Sara felt the piercing sting of its regard. Though its pitch-black optics gave no visual clues of a gaze, it was somehow obvious when it was staring. But she quickly felt the creature’s rile dissipate. Sara was no threat.  
  
She kept combing her fingers through her son’s hair. The deep horror of almost losing him tightened her throat. Thoughts of his limp body and cold skin weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.  
  
One flicked the tip of its tail idly.  
  
 _~He is safe with me.~_  
  
She cut a glare at the Organoid. _He almost died._  
  
One lifted its head from the floor and met Sara’s eyes directly. 

She couldn’t help but to stumble into the depths of its mind, gently led along by something she didn’t quite understand. Tantalizing and irresistible, One’s beckon drew her nearer… until perception sharply narrowed and Sara found herself in the beast’s tight mental grip. 

A trap that she’d just blithely walked into.  
  
There was an intense pressure without pain. She became peripherally aware of just how easily it could crush the life out of her… but it didn’t, and she simply gazed in a reverie.  
 _  
__~Vega is safe. And so are you. You are important to him.~_ _  
__  
_One harshly released her and Sara jerked back, catching herself in a kneel.

Vega never stirred from sleep.  
 _  
__~For now.~  
  
_

* * *

  
Early morning. 

Leon and Steve were already in the kitchen, looking over a datapad on the counter and speaking softly to each other.  
  
Sara approached silently from one corridor, pausing before she entered. The two men were discussing the damage to the Hover Cargo and the base, and how to best approach reconstruction. If they wanted to change anything. Cost.  
  
She noticed Jaime sitting on a stool to one side, sipping coffee… looking directly at her, not saying a word.  
  
It was odd to be in the company of these complete strangers she’d so thoroughly disregarded. Less than 24 hours ago she’d been indifferent to whether these people lived or died. Now - for the time being - she was more-or-less at their mercy.  
  
Fierce pride writhed beneath reality’s steely grip. The Blitz Team held all the power here. They could have turned her away. Could have refused to help her - and Vega. Could have sent her - and Vega - out into the frigid desert night. But they hadn’t. Instead, she’d been invited in.  
  
She wasn’t sure how to take that, but it would do.  
  
Leon glanced and stopped talking. Steve looked also.  
  
“Good morning.” Sara said quietly.  
  
Leon didn’t reply, but Steve did. “Morning. Need anything?”  
  
She motioned at Jaime’s coffee. Steve nodded and moved to get her some.  
  
Sara looked back at Leon.  
  
Every line of the young man’s face and body read exhaustion and pain. The more she looked at him the more obvious it became. Leon was clearly forcing a pleasant front for his father, but when his eyes met Sara’s, distrust flashed in them.  
  
She didn’t blame him. She also didn’t know what injuries the extensive bandages on his hands and arms covered, but he looked the most deeply shaken of anyone in the base.  
  
Steve handed Sara a cup of coffee and she took it with a nod. Her eyes stayed on Leon.  
  
“So,” Steve broke the exchange of stares. “What are things looking like for you and Vega?” 

* * *

  
“Bit?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“Are you awake?”  
  
Bit lay reclined on Zero, eyes closed. He cracked an eye to glance at Vega, who’d spoken.  
  
“Yeah. What’s up.” 

The hangar was dark, with only thin stripes of dawn beginning to filter in. The child’s eyes caught the dim light, catlike, as he peered over One’s side.

“Did you see all that… stuff?”  
  
The unusual fear in Vega’s voice indicated what his vague words didn’t. Their shared experience of the Zoidian apocalypse - albeit from very different viewpoints and with no real understanding.

Bit was silent for a moment. 

“Yeah.”  
  
Vega searched Bit’s face, hoping for more. But Bit didn’t say anything else. The child’s throat worked, uneasily. 

“Is that real? Did that really happen?”  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Vega.” Bit sat up and glared, uncharacteristically terse. “I don’t want to think about it.”  
  
“Okay, okay.” Vega let his eyes drift to the floor and returned to silence, ducking back behind One.  
  
Zero quietly waited for Bit to nod off again, before it turned a dully-glowing orange optic towards Vega.  
  
 _~It did.~_ _  
_

* * *

The worst thing wrong with him was that he really needed to eat.  
  
Otherwise: slightly anemic and definitely badly bruised, but amazingly, nothing was broken. The hospital staff had certainly seen much worse injuries on pilots. Having no real idea what this particular pilot had just been through, Brad was completely unremarkable. 

He kept it that way.  
  
For far too long, he simply sat in the hospital bed with tightly folded arms, staring in silence out the window of the small room. Naomi had been in and out, seeming much less worried now that the doctors had given him a decent bill of health.  
  
He certainly didn’t feel it, but refused to dwell.  
  
The door to the room opened again. Brad looked over, expecting Naomi.  
  
It was Bit. They exchanged a long stare.  
  
“Hey.” Bit finally said.  
  
Brad held eye contact a few moments longer, then looked aside. He didn’t say anything.

Bit uncomfortably shifted from one leg to the other. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”  
  
“I’m not dead.” Brad replied simply, and glanced back at the blonde. “You?”  
  
“I’m… not dead either.” Bit confirmed.

Brad frowned. The blonde was clearly out of sorts. “Really, Bit. Are you okay.”  
  
“Yeah. I am.” He wasn’t.  
  
“...good.” It wasn’t.  
  
Silence.  
  
Bit didn’t like the quiet, so put a hand on the bed rail. “I get why you were upset.” He started. “I never-”  
  
“Don’t.” Brad cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
  
“Neither did you.”  
  
“I almost killed you.” The words felt nasty to say. “Feels pretty damn wrong.”  
  
“It wasn’t your fault. I get how One… is.”  
  
Brad abruptly looked away, eyes becoming red-rimmed with upset. Yes, the Fury- _One_ -was behind everything that’d gone on. But Brad knew he’d all-too-willingly given the beast something to work with. Without the dangling threads of his own resentment, the Fury never could’ve gained a hold, never would have gotten anywhere.  
  
He wanted to think none of what’d happened was his fault. But the more he dwelt on it, the less certain he became.  
  
Worse still: why did he miss the Fury so badly. Brad shut his eyes against the intense ache in his head and chest, a deep and loathsome craving. He didn’t _want_ to want the damn thing, but he did.  
  
Having an entire internal crisis with Bit standing a foot away made everything intolerable.  
  
Yet Brad said nothing. The hurt in the room was stifling, near-tangible. 

Really, it was no different now than what it’d been when the dust of the fight was still settling. Bit knew that the Shadow Fox had meant well, and had just been trying to protect its pilot... but Brad had needed Zero’s help then, and still needed it now.  
  
Zero apparently agreed because it suddenly appeared in the small room, ducking to accommodate the ceiling. Its massive tail bowled over a cart and adjacent chair. Concerned by this, it lifted said tail, shifted daintily, then looked back at the two men.  
  
They both reacted with panic. Brad, out of dismay, and Bit because-  
  
“Is everyone all right?” A nurse called from the hall, starting to open the door. “I heard-”  
  
In one fluid motion Bit slammed the door shut and shoved a chair up under the handle. “Everything’s fine! Thanks!” He shot a look at Zero and hissed. “ _You can’t just-_ ”  
  
 _~I can.~_ It replied idly, and carefully stepped towards Brad. Brad, who promptly scrambled out of the bed and put it between himself and the Organoid.  
  
Bit dragged a hand down the side of his face; the door thumped behind him.  
  
“Sir, please-” The nurse began.  
  
Bit’s eyes darted. “We’re not- uh- decent!”  
  
Brad squinted across the room at the blonde and mouthed ‘ _really?’_  
  
Bit threw a massive shrug, motioning with his head at the Organoid. Zero just stared at Brad.  
  
 _~I will not hurt you.~_ It said simply. _~But what you feel is pain from a wound that cannot, on its own, heal. I only need you to trust me.~_  
  
Brad glanced up at the Organoid but pointedly avoided its eyes. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t.”  
  
 _~You must understand that One’s opinions are… biased.~_  
  
Brad chuckled thinly, warily, and moved as Zero did, working to keep the bed between them. “No. It was right about you. And you’ve already fucked with me before. Get lost.”  
  
Zero rumbled a sigh. _~Things have changed. Substantially. Y-~_  
  
“ _Zero you can’t be in here,_ ” Bit interrupted, voice strained in a whisper. “ _I told you-_ ”  
  
 _~You tell me many things. No one will be aware of my presence.~_ The Organoid said dismissively, gently taking the bed’s rail with its teeth and moving it aside. The motion’s casual strength ripped the bed from Brad’s grasp, and the long-haired man was left shoving himself into the corner of the room. He tightly shut his eyes.  
  
“Bit, please. Get it away from me.”  
  
“I c- Zero- Brad, he just wants to h-”  
  
“ _Bit-_ ”  
  
Another rap on the door. This one sharper. Impatient. “Bit?” It was Naomi.  
  
“Naomi, please help me.” Brad said, loudly and utterly deadpan.  
  
He didn’t have to ask twice. Naomi shouldered into the room to find a chair in her way, the bed wildly askew, and Brad sunk into one corner. No Bit. Or anything else but a mess.   
  


* * *

  
“Say _WHAT?!_ ”  
  
Leon had already moved the phone away from his ear, expecting the rise.  
  
“It’s okay, Leena. Everyone is fine.”  
  
“Why didn’t y- what happened?!”  
  
Leon quietly explained prior events as he understood them, neatly excising any mentions of his injuries and the Organoids. The former because he didn’t want to worry his sister, the latter because he had serious reservations about discussing the beasts openly.  
  
It was Leena’s uncharacteristic silence afterward that gave him pause.  
  
She finally spoke. “Is dad doing okay? Do I need to come help with anything?”  
  
Leon briefly resented Leena’s concern for their father. Steve was fine. It was Leon who wasn’t. He silently reminded himself that he was the one downplaying things, by necessity. And Steve’s responses to stress were known to vary wildly.   
  
“No. I’d rather you not. We’ve got a lot of… company, at the base.”  
  


* * *

  
From the shade of the Blitz hangar, One stared silently into the heat-distorted desert's distance. Just at the edges of easy viewing lay the Berserk Fury, stone and still.  
  
Vega stood nearby, sharing his Organoid’s grim regard. Sara approached both from behind, but the child cut his eyes over his shoulder before she got too close. Vega’s lowered brows softened quickly.  
  
“When are we going back?”  
  
Sara’s eyes flicked, scanning the horizon. She didn’t answer for several seconds.  
  
“I don’t think we can.”  
  
“ _Why_ .”  
  
“You know why.”  
  
A hot, sandy breeze whipped at them.   
  
Vega glared up at Sara. “You’re just afraid. They have to listen to me.”  
  
“No, Vega. They don’t.” Sara shook her head. “And they’ve cut me off. I wouldn’t even know where to go.”  
  
“Well, I’ll find them.”

“No.”  
  
“Sara-”  
  
“ _No._ It’s not safe.”  
  
The child’s eyes rolled. “Oh, now you’re worried about things being safe.”  
  
Sara flashed him a dangerous look. 

Vega sneered and slipped closer to One, reaching up to run his hands along the creature's face and neck. He gently scratched each juncture between its neckplates, the Organoid rumbling softly in seeming enjoyment. Sara watched her son’s face reflect pure adoration.  
  
It was a nice thing to see, but a low-level anxiety crept in.  
  
“Everyone will be after these Organoids if they find out about them, Vega.” Sara said, impassively. “Between that and Backdraft not... _taking failure lightly_ , it’s best we stay put for the time being. You’re still hurt.”  
  
Vega didn’t like being reminded. Though he felt much better in an abstract sense, he physically ached everywhere, especially his chest. He scowled. “We didn’t fail. It just… didn’t go how it was supposed to.”  
  
Sara gave a single, mirthless chuckle. “Everyone who came with me was killed, dear. The Committee has no idea what went on.”  
  
Vega glared up at Sara like she was stupid. “Then we have to _tell_ them.”

Her brow twitched. All Sara could think of was the handful of people she’d personally written out of existence with a simple command. Most of Backdraft’s senior leadership were no different, willing to discard anyone or anything that endangered the Organization or its clients.  
  
At its peak Backdraft had operatives and pilots all over the continent. Though it was clearly no longer at its peak, Sara wasn’t convinced it was damaged enough to stop functioning at that level. The existence of the Organoids threw additional complications into the mix.  
  
Sara just shook her head.  
  
“Then I’ll have to tell them.” Vega snorted, and broke away from One with a beckon. “Come on.”  
  
He started walking off. 

One watched Vega go for several yards, glanced at Sara, then followed idly after the child.

 _~Vega.~_  
  
Sand crunched with every impetuous step. “What.”  
  
 _~Your mother is correct.~_ _  
_  
Vega stopped and threw his arms up, whirling to One. “Hey! No! She’s not!”  
  
 _~You are not yet well. And many in Backdraft liked neither of you. Taking such risk is pointless, especially when - at present - they have nothing to offer us.~_  
  
Vega blinked, and wrinkled his nose indignantly. Only one thing seemed to register: “What? Everyone liked me. Except Alteil. But he was always an ass. To Sara.”  
  
The Organoid inclined its head. _~Vega. They did not like you. They feared you. And from that fear came their respect.~_  
  
Vega’s expression dropped blankly.  
  
One went on, voice level as always. _~Make no mistake. That respect is our right, and we will demand it. We will be able to claim all that is ours. But we must be patient.~_ _  
_  
The harsh sun beat down on the two. At length Vega dropped his arms and shoulders, sighing, and glanced once again at the distant stone Fury.  
  


* * *

  
Several days passed.

Brad had returned to his present abode, Naomi’s apartment. 

And it was there he took up residence on the couch, sitting near-motionlessly for hours at a time. Simply staring off into space, eyes occasionally flicking with thought. And he’d been doing that a lot.  
  
Naomi let him be for a while, but eventually sat beside him. She ran a hand up his leg. “Hey.”  
  
He looked at her, and slid his hand up onto hers. Their fingers twined.  
  
“You doing okay?” She said.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
Naomi wasn’t surprised, but didn’t have much of a reply. She just looked the man in the face, hoping he’d elaborate. He didn’t. Just met her gaze and said nothing.  
  
“Want to talk about anything?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
Again, it wasn’t surprising that he was being so reserved. He always had been, and that wasn’t likely to change. But what was new is that he looked so lost, blue eyes weary and dull.  
  
Naomi shifted and sat up against him, still holding his hand. “Well. Tell me what happened.”  
  
It was a command rather than a question. Brad blinked once and gently put his other arm around the woman, distantly grateful for her.  
  
“It’s... not nice.”  
  
“Never thought it was. Tell me.”  
  
He did.  
  
Though he did leave out some parts. Like the Fury’s brutal string of murders in the arena. The fewer people who knew about that, the better. It already rankled him that Zero likely knew - the damn things seemed to know everything. He just hoped Bit didn’t also know, but wouldn’t dare ask.   
  
Naomi could only listen with a growing horror to the situations described. She’d figured things were bad, but Brad was relaying straight-up torture. He didn’t really have a good concept of how long he’d been gone and subject to it. She did.  
  
Backdraft simply leaving her to die suddenly seemed much less of an offense. And that was saying a lot.  
  
Her thoughts subsided as she noticed Brad had gone quiet. She looked up at him again.  
  
Brad shook his head. “I could’ve killed Bit. Leon. You.”  
  
“Well… you didn’t. Everyone is okay.”  
  
He knew this, but the relentless crush of guilt blurred what lines had been crossed. He’d given the Fury an in. He’d embraced it. He’d craved it, and he still did. He’d _wanted_ to see them all dead, and the thought made him physically ill.  
  
The sensation was quickly countered by the delight of potentially pleasing the Fury - followed by the stomach-drop of horror at even having the thought.  
  
“You really should talk to Leon. He’s been trying to get ahold of you.”

“I can’t. Not right now.” 

“He’s worried.”  
  
“ _I’m_ worried.” Brad snapped, but immediately withdrew, “I’m- sorry. It’s just that thing is so fucked up. It’s awful. But I’ve never wanted something so much. It was amazing. I’ve never felt so…” Brad trailed off.  
  
Naomi stared at him, waiting for the rest.  
  
He squeezed her hand a little too firmly, eyes suddenly bright. “Strong. _Alive_ . I’d- _we’d_ never have another care in the world. Can you imagine?”  
  
She could not. She blinked.  
  
“But I just wasn’t good enough.” Brad glanced aside, crestfallen. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Naomi had never seen Brad look so thoroughly defeated. She didn’t really think he could look this way, were she not sitting here staring at it. He clearly meant what he said, but she couldn’t fathom how any of what he’d relayed or what she’d witnessed of the Berserk Fury amounted to a desirable experience.  
  
She took her hand from his to brush the hair from beside his face. “Hey. I thought you were gone for good. You’re still here. That’s good enough for me.”  
  
Despite himself, Brad looked back at her and smiled a little. 

“Got that goin’ for me at least.”


	4. Chapter 3

The morning air was cool on Leon's face as he shouldered open one of the hangar’s side doors. The mechanism engaged and clattering wide, as the man quietly sighed and looked over his shoulder at his Blade Liger.

The Blade Liger watched him do this. Then stepped outside through the missing swath of wall, swishing its tail.

Leon stared, raised a brow, then walked outside after it.

He and Jaime had been working the past several days on repairing the Liger. Though admittedly, Jaime had been doing most of the work because Leon’s dexterity was currently limited. Little now remained to see to on the Liger besides a few cosmetic issues and the issue of the missing blade.

Blade Ligers weren’t terribly common. The major downside to owning an uncommon Zoid was that their parts were expensive, difficult to source, or worse - had to be fabricated from scratch each time you needed one.

As far as Leon knew, the blade stuck in the Berserk Fury was fine. It was just… stuck in the Berserk Fury.

The two sauntered out to the stone remains of the Fury and silently looked them over. Even in death the Berserk Fury remained horrifying, its jaws permanently agape and stone teeth only slightly less daunting than razor-edged metal had been.

The Blade Liger touched its snout to the fractured end of its blade assembly poking out of the Fury’s side. The piece was still metal, contrasting strongly against the ossified Zoid.

“Bet you it’s all still in one piece,” Leon said idly to his Liger, to which it chuffed agreement. The man carefully made his way closer to the blade’s entry point, tracing his eyes along the deep, lengthy gouge in what’d become stone.

Leon wanted to be impressed with himself. But all he could bring to mind was his panic. The idea of life-or-death Zoid battles was a harsh one. He felt small and almost foolish on that stage. Zoids hadn’t been used as true tools of war for centuries now. Competition pilots all called themselves Warriors, but were they really? They were sportsmen.

Warriors protected their homes, their friends, their families.

Leon considered.

He was a Warrior.

“You got him good,” A child’s voice observed, startling Leon badly.

He looked around until he saw Vega, seated in the inky shadow beneath the Fury’s neck. Almost invisibly beside Vega was his Organoid, pitch-black in the early dawn’s haze.

Leon understood, logically, that there shouldn’t be reason to fear. But his reptile brain informed him that the shadow was full of death, and doused him with adrenaline. He hesitated before speaking.

“Kind of had to.”

Vega shrugged. “You didn’t _have_ to do anything.”

Leon blinked. He didn’t say anything - he didn’t know what to say. After several seconds of silence the man inhaled deeply and turned back to his Liger.

Vega smirked and glanced after him. “Want help?”

“We’ve got it.”  
  


* * *

  
Naomi sat up out of bed, set her feet on the floor, and immediately froze.

Ambient lay across almost the entire bedroom floor, tail crunched up against the dresser and head resting loosely on its foreclaws. Its green optics shifted in regard.

She exhaled deeply and glanced over her shoulder to glare daggers at Brad. The man stirred, but wasn’t quite awake.

Naomi looked back at the Organoid with an equal air of ire and defeat. "Why are you still here. What are you?"

Ambient gave a throaty rumble.

Naomi stared.

Ambient dimmed its optics with a slow blink. Humans were difficult enough. Humans that it couldn't get through to? The worst.

_~Oh. Lovel'eh. Ye really are one of those.~_

It was equally difficult to pick up on the thoughts of someone closed off in such a way. Were the opportunity available, Ambient usually just ate people like this. Because they were annoying. More annoying than usual. However, it knew the useful person in the room would likely take issue with that.

Ambient twitched its tailtip irritably, debating the woman.

Shaking her head, Naomi stood and stepped across the room to slip into some clothing. Once lightly dressed she turned to the creature again. Though she couldn’t hear or understand the beast, she wasn’t oblivious. Its increasingly-predatory stare twinged the part of her mind that’d long saved humanity from destruction. The part that whispers: it’s dangerous.

Her regard became more cautious and deliberate. She glanced again at Brad.

“ _Brad._ ”

“Mmn.”

“Get up. That thing is still here.”

Brad sat up and looked at Ambient, who visibly mellowed. This didn’t escape Naomi’s notice; she narrowed her eyes.

_~Moor’nin, lad. Just mindin’ the floor.~  
  
_

* * *

  
Organoids were weird.

Bit had spent his twenty-plus years alive as an individual - singular.

Now he carried an inexplicable sense of existing two places at once, always somehow able to perceive Zero’s presence. Though the white Organoid didn’t trail behind him quite as closely as he’d seen One clinging to Vega, the feeling of being watched never relented.

It wasn’t a bad thing, really. It was comforting. It just took some getting used to.

Just like having a 9 foot tall beast constantly try accompanying you into the shower did.

As Bit stood in the shower’s spray, Zero rasped its tongue along his neck and shoulders. With an impossible-seeming gentleness it combed its teeth through the back of his rough blonde hair. Bit found this extremely pleasant, oddness aside.

Yet every time he glanced at Zero, the reality of the creature couldn’t be escaped. The Organoid was absolutely massive, the blades on its face as long as Bit’s forearms. This wasn’t a pet.

The two relished in the hot water and each other’s company, a soft comfort beyond compare. Several times Bit’s eyes drifted shut, and he leaned back onto Zero’s smooth chest. He’d not been sleeping well. Not since-

Someone knocked on the outside door. Bit startled.

He cut his eyes and sighed, wishing now more than ever that the base had more than one hot-water bathroom.

Zero wasn’t bothered in the slightest and simply stepped aside, glancing at the door.

“Sorry Bit,” It was Steve’s voice. “But you’ve been in there for like an hour. Other people here too, you know.”

Unseen, Bit idly mocked Steve’s statement. He stepped out of the shower and toweled off, glancing down to inspect the healing gash on his leg. “We need to add another shower with hot water by the hangar.”

“Too expensive.” Steve replied.

“Take it out of my earnings and it’ll be _my_ shower, then.” Bit said loudly as he dressed. Then his tone dropped with a grumble. “Gotta rebuild everything out there anyways.”

Steve appeared to consider this, because he shut up long enough for Bit to finish and open the sliding door. Steve blinked at him and withdrew slightly, clearly not expecting the blonde’s visible ire.

“I’ll… think about it.” He glanced up at Zero, then back to Bit. “You doing ok?”

“Never better,” Bit said as he quietly pushed past, motioning for the Organoid to follow.  
  


* * *

  
Naomi stood in the kitchen, menacingly eating fruit.

It was the only course of action she could actually decide on, tensely watching Brad and that thing have a conversation in the living room.

Ambient looked awful, was absolutely filthy, smelled like iron and wet dirt, and... just didn’t seem to care. Brad didn’t seem to care either. Was she supposed to follow suit? Was this just suddenly okay, having this thing in the apartment?

No. No, it was not.

But Naomi could clearly see Brad’s attention to the Organoid was earnest. She was reluctant to interfere.

Yet the growing reality of the Organoid’s presence began to give her pause. What were these, exactly? What did they do, what could they do? Why did they talk (to some people, at least?) Why’d they start showing up all at once?

Ambient flicked an emerald optic her way, a split-second's glance.

Her questions didn’t have answers, but the hair on the back of her neck did stand up.

This wasn’t a simple annoyance, was it. This thing wasn’t just going to go away, was it.

Frustrated and stewing in her own thoughts, she’d more or less tuned Brad’s half-conversation out. So when both finally looked her way in question, she blinked - unprepared and annoyed. “What?”

“Sorry.” Brad said with a shitty smile, chagrined. He wasn’t at all blind to her irritation. “I know you don’t want him here. Is the hangar okay?”

Naomi flicked her free hand. “Whatever. As long as it stays out of sight and gets its dirty ass out of here.”

The Organoid chuffed indignantly.

Brad glanced. “I mean. She’s got a point.”

Ambient narrowed its optics at the man.

* * *

Brad became quite possibly the first person in history to pressure-wash an Organoid, inside and out.

By the time he was done, Ambient looked a little better. Brad also pressure-sprayed the undersides of the Fox and Gun Sniper so they didn’t feel left out, given their attention on both the Organoid and the whole process. The Zoids were delighted, responding with soft chuffs and happily clacking claws.

After that was through and everything had been put away, Brad pulled over his mechanic stool and sat. Ambient stood nearby, idly grooming its own flank.

“So. Do you things heal, need maintenance, or... what?” He asked.

It was an honest question, given an Organoid’s obvious similarity to a Zoid - and a Zoid doing both. A Zoid’s internal components and wiring could often heal on their own, but external components and weaponry had to be repaired. Being able to work on a Zoid entailed an eclectic mix of skills, which most pro-level pilots eventually gained to some degree. Brad was no exception, having spent years doing most of his own maintenance work.

Ambient stopped grooming and looked at the man strangely.

“You know. Your armor or whatever. It’s all fucked up.”

_~Been this way for a long time, lad. Uh’ll be fine.~_

Brad shrugged, and looked up at the Fox. Its tail started to slow-wag at his attention.

“Hey. Good boy.”

Ambient glanced up at the Fox also. _~Yon Zoid’s yours, eh?~_

“Mm-hmm.” Brad idly rolled to the workbench, picked up a towel, then motioned for Ambient to come closer. “C’mere.”

Ambient squinted but obliged after a moment. Brad began to detail its head and face with the towel.

The Organoid clearly didn’t know how to process this, but didn’t find it disagreeable. It’d all but given up on the concept of touch, and tentatively pressed into the man’s efforts.

Brad grinned a little. Several relatively-silent minutes passed this way, before Brad finished up.

“There. Better.”

Ambient tilted its head down at the man as he removed the towel. It seemed hesitant to respond, almost flustered.

“Yes? No?”

The Organoid rumbled a low non-answer and changed the subject, twitching its foreclaws. _~You know… ah’ve nae had a proper meal in a long while.~_

Brad stared, realizing he had no idea what these things ate. He guessed it wasn’t typical Zoid fuel - the synthetic, nutrient-rich slurry that Zoids universally metabolized. Ambient heard the question even though it wasn’t fully expressed.

_~I can feed on anythin’ honestly. But I best love the stuff straight from’a Core. S’how things used to be.~_ Ambient eyed the Shadow Fox.

Brad arched a brow. “Not interested in you hurting the Fox.”

_~No, no. Does’nae hurt ‘im. But lad’s got to be, ah… okay with it.~_

Brad felt the Fox attempting to parse this, followed by its strong impression of confused suspicion. He shrugged at the Zoid and looked back down at Ambient. “Whatever. Between you two.”

The man stood and continued to clean up, backgrounded by the snorts and chuffs of both Zoids and the Organoid.

Ambient abruptly blazed red and plunged into the Shadow Fox. The Zoid’s eyeglass went bright crimson then harshly dimmed, the sensation of the Organoid’s fusion unpleasant. Ambient wasn’t gentle, it was greedy - and started to voraciously feed from the Fox, drawing power. The Fox was young, healthy - and it’d been a long time since Ambient had managed more than a few uninterrupted seconds on a living Zoid.

The Shadow Fox bucked once, its heavy landing shaking the hangar walls. But its head dipped and it went slack-jawed as the endorphin-like rush of fusion overtook it. The unexpected feeling reached Brad too, and he swallowed hard against the bizarre sensation.

After several moments, there came the distinct clicks of the Fox’s clawtips unsheathing onto the concrete floor. Pain. Discomfort sliced through what should’ve been a static calm.

“Ambient. Stop.”

_~Just let me finish.~_ Ambient snapped back, optics dimmed to black with the sheer ecstasy of sustenance. The osmosis of energy lessened as the starved party equalized with the well-fed. Ambient rumbled and lay its head on the Fox’s crystalline Core, gently lapping the surface.

The Shadow Fox contemplated Ambient through its lessening discomfort, both realizing and starting to feel out what the creature could offer in return. The Zoid maintained an assuring sense of control, instinctively aware it had the option to eject the Organoid at any point - and equally aware that Ambient was silently begging for it not to. Despite it remaining unspoken, the notion was clear - patience now would be handsomely rewarded later.

The Shadow Fox itself had little context for the concept of personal gain. But the idea wasn’t foreign: its pilot existed on a substrate of quiet but powerful desires. And that had been _before_ everything.

To the outside observer, little had changed in the man and Zoid’s dynamic. But blue eyes kept flickering with a deep disappointment, however fleeting. Though Brad was quick to offer reassurances, and his intensity never waned… the Shadow Fox was concerned.

It possessed no understanding of the emotional catastrophe involved in both valuing a companion and craving a forbidden fruit.

Ambient’s offer was accepted.

It’d only been about two minutes, but seemed excruciatingly longer. Ambient disengaged, reappearing with a clack of talons on the hangar floor beneath the Fox. 

Brad stared. Squinting, unsure.

_~Ayyyyye lad, blessed be. Y’truly are an Evesend.~_ Ambient glanced up at the Fox's belly. _~You too, tod.~_

The Organoid stretched, circling once beneath the Zoid before tucking to the floor. Clean, sated, and sufficiently secure, Ambient looked comfortable despite the unforgiving concrete floor.

Both Zoids watched with only an idle interest. Brad shrugged and continued cleaning up.

The Organoid’s optics had dimmed into sleep by the time Brad was done. When the man finally glanced back again, the sight gave him pause.

Brad hadn’t really considered the possibility that these things slept. He’d never seen - well, felt - the Fury sleep. Because it had never seemed tired. Or comfortable for that matter. But the Fury-

He squinted his eyes tightly shut. Held his breath for a few seconds. Sat on the edge of the work table. Lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

The Shadow Fox glanced, and Brad vaguely waved its attention away. He hated this, and didn’t want to think about the black Organoid or anything it entailed.

But he simply couldn’t help it.

After a few minutes Brad opened his eyes again and stared quietly into the stilled hangar. The Organoid’s bulky but relaxed form reminded him of the big village dog in the town he’d grown up in.

As bad as Ambient looked and as strange as it seemed, it was somehow soothing to Brad that these creatures - well, at least this one - weren’t simply unknowable, alien entities. They slept. They wanted food and shelter.

Just like everything else did.


	5. Chapter 4

Vega was hungry.

He was often hungry. He was a growing young boy and liked to eat. For most of his life, he’d had an absolute glut of whatever he wanted available.

For the past few months that had changed, with Backdraft’s broken and pressured supply lines culminating in utterly awful food at the Mackaray Base. Yet for the past few weeks, he’d been dealing with much more hunger than he’d ever wanted to. An abnormal highlight of an irritating reality that’d cropped up between him and that _other guy._

For all he cared, Backdraft could’ve let Brad starve. Vega knew that they hadn’t been squandering food on anyone brought in for the Fury, because it was seen as a waste. Vega had only begrudgingly brought something to Brad to see if he could make his own hunger pangs stop. The problem had been: it worked.

Vega grumbled to himself. He still felt jealous of and viscerally angry with Brad for drawing One’s attention for even a second. He really hoped that was all over with.

The child rolled over and tried to get comfortable in his sleeping bag. Like some kind of polite blonde packrat, Bit had been dragging an increasing number of small comforts into the hangar for the two of them. Vega didn’t think the sleeping bag was nearly soft enough, but it was much better than the floor.

The profound gnaw of hunger wouldn’t permit comfort.

Vega sat up and glanced at One, who was awake and seemed similarly uncomfortable. He quickly realized the Organoid was the source of these feelings.

“Hey. You okay?”

One’s voice was subdued. _~I am very hungry.~_

The child blinked. It occurred to him in that moment that he had no idea what - or how - an Organoid even ate.

He received the deep impression that Organoids were so used to being sustained - by their Zoids? - that they really didn’t think much about their next meal, nevermind ever worry about becoming hungry.

Vega yet again glanced in the direction he knew the stone Berserk Fury lay.

Oh.

“Just… go into one of the Zoids in here, then.”

Vega noticed with equal parts curiosity and confusion that One was drooling, a viscous substance starting to bead from between its teeth.

_~I do not think I can. I am too hungry. I do not think I can symbiose. I want to eat.~_

“Symbiose?” Vega carefully sounded the new word out, then stared, puzzled. He peered around the hangar. “How do you eat a Zoid?”

One looked at the child and relayed joyously brutal mental imagery, its tongue reflexively flashing out to lick its chops.

The child’s brows rose. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

Vega realized that wouldn’t quite fly, and more importantly - there wouldn’t be any easy way to get away with it. He studied each Zoid in the hangar in turn, gauging their worth. Given the situation, the mental math didn’t come out in his or One’s favor.

He lowered his voice. “Can’t you eat something else?”

_~I... do not know.~_

Vega stood and walked to One, beckoning the Organoid down to his level. The creature obliged, and Vega opened his mouth, an unspoken request that One do the same.

In the handful of days since Vega had found he had an Organoid, he’d not really had a chance or reason to closely inspect the creature. It was simple known fact that Zoids couldn’t ingest anything with their mouths, but the fleeting imagery One had just shared suggested otherwise for Organoids.

Every part of One’s mouth was as pitch black as any other part of the beast. It had sharp, perfectly-spaced upper and lower rows of slick onyx teeth. Its dark tongue was segmented and distinctly metallic-looking; the back of its mouth seemed closed off by several layers of a mechanism.

In a move that no other living creature would dare consider, Vega casually reached into One’s mouth and pressed the back of it. Though the mechanism looked solid while still, at the child’s touch it twitched and parted slightly, allowing a glimpse of what was best described as a _serrated throat_.

Vega observed this with another raise of both brows. He fearlessly patted the beast’s tongue and nodded. Difference from Zoids noted.

“Well let’s go see what you can have, huh?”

* * *

“It’s good. Just try a bite.” Vega’s voice.

Leon slowed in the corridor as he drew closer to the main kitchen. It was strange to hear someone so young in the base again. But this early? His hope for a silent, meditative cup of early-morning coffee was quick to evaporate.

Leon peeked around the corner to see Vega and his Organoid standing at the open double-door of the large pantry. The man fought a full-body shudder upon seeing the gloss-black beast, but there was something disarming - something strangely vulnerable - in watching the child gently try to feed the Organoid what looked to be a peanut-butter sandwich.

_Try_ being the key word. One kept arching its neck back and making guttural sounds, clearly uninterested. It instead turned to nose through the shelves, upsetting boxes and tins with messy clatters. Leon could hear the creature’s snuffling, and it started to bite and scrape on something further back on the shelf.

Vega sighed and started eating the sandwich himself, watching his partner. Only a few moments passed before he realized Leon was there. He cut his eyes warily at the man.

One tugged an industrial-sized roll of kitchen foil out of its box with interest. The Organoid mouthed it briefly, lining the roll up with its snout - before effortlessly crunching it flatter and swallowing it whole.

Given the density, weight, and size of the roll, it was a somewhat alarming feat.

Leon blinked, but had finally worked up the nerve to forge into the room. It was then he noticed the full extent of the mess the two had made. Countless packages - some neatly opened, some crudely bitten. The majority of the pantry’s contents, open and on the floor.

“This is months worth of food.” Leon said through his teeth, forcing calm.

Vega shrugged, and said through a mouthful, “You can get more.”

Leon’s nostrils flared, but his voice stayed level. “Do you know how much months worth of food _costs?”_

Vega paused to consider. Then shrugged again, twitching a smirk at Leon’s thinly-veiled agitation. “You guys have money.”

“That’s not the point.” Leon pointed sternly towards the hangar. “Get that thing out of the kitchen.”

One was nosing through the mess on the ground, but paused to fix its gaze on the man. It growled, the deep sound prompting Leon a step backward.

“Make him,” Vega sneered, grabbing an armful of packaged cookies. He ripped a box open and offered one to the Organoid, who rejected it after a sniff. Vega started eating the cookies instead.

Leon scowled and raised his voice. “Both of you. Out of the kitchen.”

“Or what?”

One picked up a tin of coffee. And ate said tin, its spilling grounds and all.

“ _Or everyone in this base is going to have your head._ ”

* * *

He wanted to look at the clouds without worry.

He couldn’t.

The soft morning breeze tousled the blonde’s hair. In the distance - and just beginning to shimmer with the distortions of desert heat - the stone Berserk Fury lay. The Zoid’s final throes had twisted it towards the base, every angle of its desperation preserved.

Bit had been in many battles since joining the Blitz Team, but never in one where lives were on the line. It was easy to forget that war and blind destruction had once been a common part of Zoids’ repertoires. There just weren’t massive conflicts anymore.

_~It is a blessing to be free of war.~_

“Not doubting that, bud.” Bit picked up a chunk of debris from the ruined floor, and threw it hard into the distance. “I just… never really thought about it before.”

_~Also a privilege.~_

Bit looked skyward again. He considered the Mega-Satellite he knew now orbited the planet, supposedly taking over the roles of the many smaller Judge Satellites that Backdraft had destroyed. He only knew this because the ZBC had debriefed him and the rest of the Blitz Team after the Royal Cup. Given their inadvertent role in the mess and its subsequent cleanup, they’d been given an overview of what went on.

It didn’t add to or take away from the Royal Cup victory, and everyone had been so excited… the other stuff didn’t matter.

Did it?

Bit blinked, realizing Vega had appeared next to him. The boy was also looking skyward, and glanced at Bit curiously.

“Oh." Bit said. "Heya.”

“Kinda sucks, huh.” Vega clambered atop a pile of broken wall chunks, where he folded into a thoughtful crouch. “About the Satellites.”

Bit questioned both his sanity and whether he’d been thinking out loud or not. He just nodded.

“Pretty weird they think one Satellite can cover all those different orbits, you know? Even we didn’t try that. It’s dumb.”

‘We.’ Backdraft. “You’re not with the Backdraft anymore, Vega.”

“I _am_ Backdraft,” Vega declared. He picked up a piece of rebar and pointed it like a wand, descending quickly into a messy swordfight with nothing. “I’m the King.”

Bit rolled his eyes. “Hey, King. Get down from there. None of this is stable.”

As if to prove Bit’s point, the concrete Vega stood on trembled and slid. Vega managed an effortless escape from the tumbling chunk, skipping lithely between small ledges to the ground beside Bit again. He poked the blonde with the rebar.

“We should fight. Do you know how to fence?”

“Do YOU know how to fence?”

“Of course. Don’t they teach it in school?”

Bit squinted severely. Vega was either serious, or an amazing bluffer. “Uh. I didn’t--” The blonde quickly reconsidered kneecapping himself in front of a child. “--no.”

Vega squinted back, dark eyes flicking in study. “You didn’t go to school?”

“I went!”

“Where’d you train to battle?”

Bit’s lower eyelid twitched.

* * *

Later in the afternoon.

Leon had been standing near the hangar’s slightly-open door for several minutes, watching.

Brad was eating a sandwich and doing idle maintenance on the Shadow Fox, seemingly lost in busywork. He mumbled to the Zoid at random, and it chittered soft responses. Leon was certain the Fox had noticed him - it’d glanced - but it clearly hadn’t alerted its pilot.

Leon didn’t know why he hesitated.

Brad had refused to talk on the videphone or phone. Brad hadn’t called, come to the base, anything. Naomi had strongly suggested that Leon come over to talk, trying to bridge the obvious and painful-seeming gap. She’d finally convinced him to come to the city.

But the remaining ten feet between Leon and the other man seemed strangely insurmountable. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of.

...who was he kidding.

He looked down at his hands and forearms. Bandaged, more neatly now. The wraps really didn’t look that out of place. If you didn’t know Leon and how well he could hide a problem or pain, you’d be none the wiser.

He looked up again.

Berserk Fury or no, Brad had almost killed him twice and not a single thing had been said about it. Leon wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel angry, hurt, or both by that. Perhaps he was just supposed to acknowledge the more-likely reality that Brad was unable to deal with that fact and was indeed avoiding him.

But they’d been friends - good friends - for ages. He expected _something._

His brow knit. “Brad.”

Brad startled - odd enough in itself - and looked at Leon. A split-second of recognition; the man’s blue eyes dropped to the ground, his throat working anxiously.

Leon’s heart sank. Avoidance. Brad spent most of his time avoiding people like a harried animal anyways - duress made him vanish.

Brad took a long moment to compose himself, then hesitantly approached.

Leon just stared back, somber.

“Hey.” Brad said.

Leon gave him a nod. “How’s things.”

“Oh... you know.”

“Not sure I do.”

Silence.

Brad set a hand on Leon’s shoulder, and Leon carefully reciprocated.

The long-haired man was far bonier than Leon had ever remembered him, prompting the unpleasant realization that Leon had no actual idea what Brad had been through while missing.

The keen edge of Leon’s self-centered indignation dulled. It found itself replaced with a mild embarrassment. He’d been wanting some kind of reassurance or acknowledgment from Brad, but had completely ignored that Brad very likely wanted the same - and didn’t feel like he had a right to ask for it.

The two men stayed silent, though Brad was clearly working up to speaking.

“...I’m so sorry, man.” He said at length, then pushed back enough to look at Leon’s bandaged arms. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

A mild shrug. “Probably scar a little bit. I’ll be fine.”

“Fuck.” Brad said, with both relief and upset. “I’m sorry.”

Leon didn’t doubt that. It’d been fairly clear even during the battle that Brad wasn’t acting right - nor, as was later discerned, of his own free will.

Which honestly made things worse, because it introduced Leon to the possibility that a Zoid could simply decide to do whatever it wanted and force its pilot into compliance. Not only did that not fit into Leon’s worldview, he wasn’t quite ready to accommodate it either. The ramifications were intensely uncomfortable to contemplate.

Almost as uncomfortable as each unbidden recollection of the Berserk Fury’s fangs grating across his Blade Liger’s shrieking cockpit glass. Leon could not think of a single time that he’d been more terrified in his life.

But he wasn’t the only one with undesirable recollections of events.

Brad spoke tensely as he glared at the floor. “I really- _if any of you had been killed._ I don’t know what I’d do. Probably put a bullet in my head. I don’t - I can’t deal with this right now, Leon.”

The man turned and promptly walked back into the hangar, shaking his head and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

There wasn’t any easy way to express it: the clear memory of trying to - of _wanting_ to - destroy his closest friends hurt him deeply. So intense had been the bond between him and the Fury, the distinctions between them were vague and hard to recall. He’d always believed he wasn’t capable of such awful things, but now he wasn’t sure.

His continued cravings for the Fury didn’t help matters.

Leon watched him, unaware of his turmoil.

“Well. Everyone’s okay.”

Brad stayed quiet, fumbling with a cigarette for far too long. He finally lit it, shaking his head and half-coughing a laugh. “Man. Don’t lie to me.”

Leon’s lips thinned. Brad always was the realist. This often made him right. “Mostly okay.”

“Maybe _‘okay’_ like your dad. At best.”

Leon tried to smile, tried to lighten his voice, but failed on both counts. Steve was even less okay than usual, not that Brad knew. “Well… I am upset that you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Just didn’t know what to say. Still don’t.” The older man gave a weak shrug. “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

It didn’t. It really didn’t. But Leon knew it wasn’t fair to expect something else when not even he knew what that ‘something else’ was. It wasn’t as if Brad had asked to be put in that position either.

“Were you scared?” Leon asked simply.

“No.”

Not really the answer Leon expected. Silence fell and anxiety rose.

When Brad glanced up and continued talking, his voice became grim.

“I’m scared _now_. Because I want it all back.”

* * *

"I'm sorry." Sara said, quietly. Out of nowhere.

The media room’s dull afternoon drone induced a comforting stupor. Steve drowsily glanced from the TV, not really expecting anyone to speak. He also wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

"Hmm?"

Sara was silent for a moment, staring into her glass. Alcohol loosened her tongue, lowered her guard, and brought on a lot of dark thoughts that she'd been trying to keep at bay. It also emboldened her into proceeding.

"We could've completely destroyed your family. But you didn't even hesitate to help mine." She looked at him, squarely. "So. I'm sorry."

Steve's throat worked a bit.

Admittedly, those kinds of thoughts had been keeping him up at night. A lot of thoughts had been, actually. But no, he wasn't one to sit idly by with anyone in actual distress. Even someone who may well have been an enemy.

He sipped from his glass. "I didn't want you to lose your boy."

Steve didn't know how she'd made the damnable set of decisions that led to the terrifying rise of the Berserk Fury. Steve didn't know what'd actually happened during the Royal Cup. Steve didn't know how Backdraft operated, what her plans had been, how long and hard she'd worked to claw her way into authority... only to end up almost inadvertently sacrificing her only son on the altar of ambition.

Steve didn't know anything. Nor did he know how much it paradoxically hurt her to have someone actually give a damn.

Sara looked away, silent.

Steve watched her for a few moments.

“But, I mean. Everything turned out okay. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. Sara wanted to just return to Backdraft and pretend everything would go back to what order she'd managed to establish. But with Alteil gone and the Organization presumably in even deeper chaos, there was a void of command - one that not even she was sure she could fill.

She'd sunk so much sweat and blood into the Organization, believed in it... she wanted the future she'd both pictured for Vega and built for herself. She _needed_ it.

Yet here she was… near-powerless, trapped by necessity, and left painfully wary of the very Organization she’d done so much for.

There weren’t yet any clear paths forward, all either blocked by happenstance or simply too dangerous. A pack animal alone could do little. A pack animal and her offspring - fearless and fierce as that offspring may be - were more, not less vulnerable.

She needed allies.

Very, very tentatively, Steve reached and placed a hand on her knee. His touch was light, hesitant. Almost afraid.

Sara glanced quietly at his hand, then to his face.

"I’m not going to pretend to know what your life is like.” Steve said, voice low. “I don't know if it helps, but you and Vega are safe here. And you can stay as long as you need to."

She could glean a lot from people. She was used to deception, used to polite and empty smiles. Used to disingenuous nodding, used to meaningless handshakes.

She wasn’t used to genuine statements and deep, stale sadness. Sara studied Steve for several seconds.

"I don't deserve your kindness, Toros."

"Maybe not. But maybe you do.” Steve downed the rest of his drink all at once, and set the glass down hard on the table. “Regardless. I don't leave folks for dead. Even Backdraft."

Sara lightly shook her head. "They wouldn't return the courtesy."

"Oh, I know."

* * *

The intense and awkward silence hung for far too long.

He shouldn’t have said that.  
  
Brad closed his eyes. Things had changed a lot in the past year or so, and Leon’s absence from the team had all-too-quickly made him a stranger again.

“Forget I said anything.”

“...want what back?”

“Just forget it.”

Brad drifted further into the hangar, disappearing behind one of the Fox’s legs. The Zoid softly whined, glancing between the two men.

Leon’s shoulders fell, visible defeat. But his eyes flicked with thought.

Oh.

“Brad. Was it like the Liger Zero?”

Silence.

Then: “Yes.”

“But it didn’t throw you out.”

“No.”

Leon suddenly understood. Well, he didn’t _understand_. But he remembered Brad’s reaction after first trying to pilot the Liger Zero. That wild-eyed mixture of exhilaration and horror, a reckless determination that ultimately culminated in a faceful of sand. While he had no direct insight into Brad’s experience, witnessing it firsthand spoke of its intensity.

“I just want to know what happened.”

“And I don’t know what to tell you.” Brad leaned back into view. “It’s gotta be the Organoids.”

Leon nodded. He didn’t know a damn thing about the beasts, but Bit and Vega’s recent behavior painted a strange and passionate picture.

“One of them showed up here too.” Brad said quietly, and motioned with his cigarette at the nearby elevated walkway. There, in the shadows, crouched a rough-looking red Organoid with emerald-green optics. Without Brad’s indication, Leon had somehow completely failed to notice the creature. “But he’s different.”

Ambient dipped its head to study Leon. The young Toros took a reflexive step back, perceiving the Organoid’s deep disgust.

_~Y’need better friends. This one stinks.~_ The creature growled - to Brad. But Leon took another step back at the unexpected sentence rolling through his head.

_“The fuck!?”_ Leon yelped in surprise, looking at Brad for an explanation.

“Oh. You can hear him? Naomi says she can’t.”

“It just - talks? In your _head?”_

“Yeah.” Brad was completely unfazed. “I mean. The Liger Zero did too.”

“Not to me it didn’t. And you didn’t - I thought -” He finally registered Ambient’s disgust and just stared, at a loss.

“Oh. Yeah. He doesn’t like Blade Ligers.” Brad said with a shrug.

“Well too bad.” Leon’s brows furrowed as he shot the Organoid a glare. “My Liger’s an amazing Zoid.”

_~Goes with’oot sayin’ that their pilots have bad taste.~_ Ambient quipped.

Leon grated a sigh, but found himself more fascinated than anything. These things weren’t even supposed to be real, nevermind holding conversations. He did recognize Ambient as the Organoid that’d first shown up at the Blitz Base… but didn’t bring it up. Instead he shook his head and gazed at the ground for a few seconds, a soft mental reset before looking back to Brad.

“What are you and Naomi going to tell the ZBC?”

Deep drag. Deep exhale. Blue eyes slid wordlessly to the younger man, and Brad just shook his head.

“Yeah… that’s what we decided at base, too.”

_~Donn’ae speak a word t’the ZBGF either. Ruthless fuckin’ lot.~_

Leon folded his arms and eyed the Organoid, unamused. “What would you know about the ZBGF?”

Ambient just laughed.


	6. Chapter 5

A day or so later.

Brad sat at the counter in his boxers, uninterestedly sipping coffee and watching the news on a datapad. Naomi was seated on the couch in a light robe, busy on her laptop. The videphone chimed.  
  
Brad, being closer to it, answered.

It was Vega. They stared at each other for several seconds.

Brad hung up without a word.

Naomi didn’t look up. Questioning: “Mm?”

Dismissive. “Mmh.”

The phone chimed again. Brad simply stood and walked into the other room.

 _Then_ Naomi looked up, her regard becoming a squint. She sighed and stood to answer the phone, surprised to see Vega when she did. He blinked in equal surprise at her.

“Uh… hi.” Vega said.

“What do you want?”

“Can I talk to Brad?”

Naomi inhaled steeply as Brad shut the bedroom door, hard. “No. Anything else?”

Vega rolled his eyes. Naomi watched the disturbing dark Organoid leer in behind the child, as Vega simply ignored her and raised his voice. “Hey.”

Naomi terminated the call, shook her head, and sat back down.

Unseen in the other room, Brad pressed his back uncomfortably against the wall. One’s attention speared him from afar; though the direct bond between them was gone, One would always be able to find him. And Brad knew it.

_~Do not ignore me.~_

He pressed his hands to his temples and tried to think of something, anything else.  
  
Apparently one of those things was Ambient, because the red Organoid showed up with a slash of red in the room, attention piqued. It didn't even have to ask - it quickly perceived One’s reach, gave a guttural snarl--

\--

Red flashed again, Bit glanced, Vega looked over his shoulder. Ambient slammed into One, mere inches behind Vega.

Ambient also possessed very little grace and didn’t seem to have thought things all the way through. The two Organoids tumbled head-over-tail for several messy meters across the hangar floor.

Ambient unceremoniously dumped Brad out of its middle as it rolled to one side and stood. Brad recovered to a quick kneel, his expression surging from confusion to alarm at the complete change in scenery.

“...uh.”

At least he had boxers on. He looked over at Bit.

Bit just blinked. Then looked at Ambient.

It was Vega who scowled and stabbed a finger at the red Organoid. “You!!”

One shook off and snarled, but before the two could re-engage, Zero materialized between them. The white Organoid held apart its arms to keep the two distanced, a forceful yet polite gesture to _not._

Many things happened in rapid succession.

Ambient snapped at Zero’s nearby tail, only to be promptly slapped upside the head with it. The Liger Zero powered on with a vicious roar, charging straight for the group. Brad, seemingly the only person concerned with a full-size Zoid bearing down on them, ducked behind a pillar. One hissed at the Liger, and Zero turned to talk the Zoid down. Though the Liger Zero did scrape to a halt, it didn’t deactivate its charged claws for several more seconds - making the area more uncomfortable than it already was.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Bit bolted to the growing mess, waving his arms. “Liger! No! Brad! What the hell! Vega-”

“ _I just wanted to ask him a question!_ ”

“Didn’t I tell you to leave him alone?!”

“But...” Vega immediately tried to change the subject, and kept pointing at Ambient. “He showed up when -” He quickly reconsidered his narrative, “- _at_ Backdraft and caused all kinds of problems!”

“Yeah, he showed up here too.” Bit made a scolding gesture towards the red Organoid then looked at Brad. “Who is this?”

“Ambient.” Brad replied, regaining some composure. “He’s with me.”

Vega blinked. The child had taken some small, vicious delight in knowing that his own re-unification with One meant that the Organoid both no longer sought to curry Brad’s favor - and that Brad had no more access to him. That private delight was lessened by Brad just going and finding his own.

“Well he looks like crap.” Vega said.

Bit sighed and stepped to the child, pushing him backwards and forcibly seating him on a nearby crate. “Hey. Howabout we not.”

One appeared beside Vega and started to shove at Bit’s hands, but Vega pushed the creature away with his elbows and grunted. “I’m serious, Bit. There’s something really, really off with that Organoid.”

Bit stared. “Glass houses, dude.” He turned back to Brad, at length parsing the Liger Zero’s ongoing rumble.

His face fell. Much more clearly than before - since the Liger and Zero were now separate entities - Bit felt the Liger’s concerns. It knew and fiercely distrusted Ambient, reflecting an intensity that Bit could only recognize as past conflict. Bit regarded Ambient suspiciously.

 _~Whatever he says, he’s a damn liar.~_ Ambient eyed the Liger Zero. _~Cann’ae trust the damn kitty-cats.~_

Its voice made Bit deeply uncomfortable. “Gonna have to disagree there, buddy. I trust the Liger with my life.”

_~Well. Humans are’nae known for their intelligence.~_

Bit dwelt on Ambient a moment longer, then looked back at Brad. “I don’t think ‘ _Ambient_ ’ is a good companion, Brad.”

Brad was staring levelly at Zero, who was staring right back. “Well I don’t like your Liger or your… Zero, so we’re even.”

“No. I mean, Liger says that Ambient wasn’t in with a good crowd.”

Brad didn’t look away from Zero. “Weird flex, coming from you.”

The blonde’s pupils pinpointed with distaste. He said nothing.

“And, you know,” Brad glanced back at Bit. “I think it’s fair to say all of these guys have been involved in wars in the past.”

Bit shook his head subtly. “They're not all the same.”

“You’re right.” Brad’s neutral expression finally broke: he scowled. “Can’t possibly be worse than yours.”

Though he really didn’t want to, Bit remembered the endless grey streets filled with bodies and dead Organoids. His breath caught and he closed his eyes, caught up in a vivid recollection of hell.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but when he opened his eyes again, all three Organoids were stiffly watching Brad and Vega yell at each other.

“It’s not like I can just tell him what to do!”

“Well I certainly fucking can’t. Is this how it’s gonna be now? You’re just going to butt in whenever you feel like? I’ve got a _life,_ kid.”

“Not like I asked you to come here.” Vega narrowed his eyes. “Your _ugly_ Organoid brought you.”

Brad set his jaw and took several deep breaths. Then spectacularly failed to keep his temper in check and shoved Vega back, off the crate.

Vega never fell. One caught him in an instant and launched Brad a good 20 feet across the room with a solid round of its tail. The issue being that Vega also had the wind knocked out of him - which One turned back to with a bark of alarm.

Ambient looked at Brad and scratched the back of its neck with a foreclaw. Zero and Bit exchanged concerned glances.

The videphone chimed.

Recognizing the number, Bit winced and hesitantly answered. Onscreen was Naomi. She didn’t look amused.

 _“I did not do this.”_ Brad stated into the floor.

Naomi pursed her lips, taking in the muffled assertion. “You know, okay. I’m not going to even pretend to know what’s going on. Because the world has gone insane. Brad. Get back here. Bit. I’m going to block the base’s number if you can’t keep that child off of it. Leon,”

Everyone then noticed Leon was, and had been, standing in the doorway looking thoroughly disturbed.

“You… you should probably come over and smoke a bowl or two with us. Okay? Okay. Good. _Fuck._ ” She hung up.

Leon looked at Brad.

Brad was just starting to pick himself up. He waved lamely, once.

Leon looked at Bit, while trying not to have an aneurysm.

“Bit. I left the hangar. For fifteen minutes.”

The blonde showed his palms defensively. “For once, literally nothing going on is my fault.”

The red Blade Liger chuffed agreement.

* * *

Compared to the events of the morning, the afternoon at the base became dull.

There were arguments. Bit had wisely decided to make himself and Vega scarce, going out for a drive. Their Organoids were under strict instructions to remain at base. Simple for Zero, less so for One. The black Organoid sat upright, a stare fixed into the heat-blurred distance.

There’d been hours of such silence. One rarely spoke unless spoken to, so it was odd to hear him say something out of the blue.

_~Zero.~_

Zero glanced from where it lay atop the Liger Zero, preening a half-wing idly. _~Mm.~_

_~Why do we exist?~_

Zero paused. _~You know as well as I. We are true children of Eve.~_

One was silent again for a long time. Then:

_~Do you think the world would have been a better place had we united with Death?~_

One openly pondered the Death Saurer and Scorpion, and Zero was quick to censor such thoughts from broadcast.

 _~Why would you even entertain the thought?~_ Zero admonished, standing halfway to arch its neck down at the other. _~Cease.~_

One didn’t react, flinch, or move. Just stared. _~It is a valid question.~_

_~I see no point in such considerations. What is, is. What will be, will be.~_

_~Simple for you to say that when your existence has not been mine. With clarity of mind I find it difficult to accept that… suffering, is my purpose.~_

_~Your purpose is not suffering.~_

_~So says the cause of my woes.~_

The white Organoid very, very idly scratched its chin with a hindclaw. _~I believe... I heard a mite cry.~_

 _~Then you’d best check on your blonde insect.~_ One sneered.

A glare.

_~What am I to think, Zero? If Eve knows our destinies then She knew what would come of us. And created us without regard? That or She does not know one’s destiny...~_

Zero looked squarely at the black Organoid. _~Perhaps this comes as a surprise, but. The world does not revolve around you.~_

One looked aside, and twitched the tip of its tail irritably. _~I disagree.~_

Zero sighed and lay back down. _~I like it better when you stay silent.~_

* * *

It wasn’t particularly interesting, going nowhere. Bit just wanted the warm breeze in his hair, Leon to calm down and Vega to stay out of trouble for five minutes.

Vega leaned on the inside of the passenger door in boredom, squinting against the wind. Bit glanced at him every few minutes, wanting to say something useful. After a while even something not-useful would’ve sufficed, but he found himself short on anything to say. At all.

Sara and Vega had been at the Blitz base for just over a week, but effectively remained complete strangers. Sara only seemed interested in deigning to speak with Toros, and Vega largely existed in his own little world with One. The child’s random forays out of it only served to increase Leon and Jaime’s blood pressure, but all Bit could see was a lonely - if not strange - little boy.

They went on in silence for a while longer. Then:

“I just want to go home, Bit.” 

Bit was certain Vega didn’t mean the base. He also had no idea where Vega meant.

“And I can’t. It’s gone.”

Backdraft’s main HQ had been taken out in the Royal Cup’s aftermath. Many had celebrated the apparent demise of the Backdraft Group. It gave Bit pause to think that Vega truly did call the place home.

It gave him further pause to consider what the involved collateral damage actually _meant._

Vega had lived on those grounds for his entire life, romping into nearby towns and cities when the mood struck. His home had been his kingdom, and the rest of the world, his playground.

But if he’d found the realities of the strapped Mackaray Base unpleasant, living under a strange roof with strangers was at least equally so. At least the Blitz Team had better food.

That and being around One, the Liger and Zero was pretty comforting. Even if he did have to wake up every morning and stare his own dead Zoid in the face. Vega wiped a hand across briefly red-rimmed eyes, quick to curb his display of frustration.

“Well…” Bit said, at length. “You’re welcome to stay with us.”

“Am I?” Vega chuckled, dour. “Nobody likes One.”

It wasn’t a lie. Everyone seemed to tolerate Vega, but One was silently terrifying. People left the room if the two entered, and it wasn’t difficult to understand why. Bit was the only person who never left.

“One is… a little intimidating, you know?” Bit said. He cracked a smile, awkward but genuine. “Everyone’ll get used to him.”

Vega threw a skeptical glance. Then winced against his stomach painfully growling, but it couldn’t be heard over the sounds of the vehicle.

“Eh. I don’t think so. I know he’s different. I know he’s not like Zero.” His gaze dropped to the floorboards. “He’s not supposed to be.”

Though Vega no longer had any oppressive crush of pain in his chest when he felt for One, there remained a twinge - like the sensitive edges of a scar. Vega fell silent again, and Bit resumed wondering what - if anything - to say.

He didn’t have to wonder long. Vega went on, his brown eyes glossing with a deep love and pride that Bit immediately understood. “He is what he is. And that’s okay.”

* * *

Following Naomi’s earlier suggestion, Leon did show up at her apartment that evening. She, Leon and Brad proceeded to get incredibly high, eating junk food and watching bad movies. Through an idyllic haze of pot smoke, all three shared idle chats and vague affections long into the night.

Brad ended up on the couch with Naomi asleep, her head resting on his chest. Leon was asleep on his opposite side, folded with exhaustion onto the couch. His head had ultimately ended up on Brad’s shoulder, but the long-haired man didn’t seem to mind.

Though Brad couldn’t sleep, he found the rhythmic breathing of the two who could quite soothing.

In the dim night’s silence, things felt almost normal. If they were willing to act like nothing was wrong, then maybe nothing was.

He closed his eyes and lay his head back, trying to relax.

It didn’t happen. His mind ticked restlessly.

His chest hurt.

Why was he so hungry.

He cracked one eye at the sensation of nearby movement.

The shape of the black Organoid leered at him from across the room. Brad startled to awareness, pulse racing.

A warm and empty living-room greeted him. Both Naomi and Leon stirred at his movement, and the woman drowsily glanced up at him.

He kissed her forehead with a reassurance he did not feel.

Brad shut his eyes tightly and lay his head back again. He must’ve imagined the damn thing.

The next thing he was aware of was being outside. The cold desert night had his hands freezing and cigarette trembling, but he ignored it and briskly made his way down dark and empty sidewalks.

He ached for the warmth and comfort that he wasn’t even sure why he’d left. There must have been a reason. Blue eyes flicked trying to recall how, exactly, he’d ended up here. He glanced up.

Vega stood in the middle of the sidewalk, arms folded tightly and hair whipping with the night’s chill. Brad stopped and stared, wanting to be angry. But he simply couldn’t muster the will.

“Go away.”

“I really do just have one question.” Vega said.

“What then. What’s your stupid question.”

When Vega looked up, his eyes caught the streetlight like a cat’s. “Do you feel safe?”

“ _What kind of-_ ”

Back in the living-room.

Naomi and Leon were still fast asleep on the couch.

Brad stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving with confusion as he looked around. He knew he’d been outside: he was cold, his skin was cold, he was holding a spent cigarette. But...

It was completely silent.

The man twinged with an internal panic. Had Vega or the Fury actually shown up? Was he just seeing things? He glanced between Naomi and Leon, simultaneously wishing they’d stay comfortably unbothered and asleep - and that they’d wake up and make this stop.

Vega was still standing beside him, also looking at Naomi and Leon.

The child glanced sidelong, a smirk tugging the edges of his mouth.

“Do _they_ feel safe?”

Before Brad could react, Vega and the Organoid had vanished.


	7. Chapter 6

It was still the dead of night when Brad burst into the dark hangar.

He didn’t turn on any lights, he didn’t make much noise. But he did heft the small door shut behind him and lock it, slipping past crates and cabinets to shove himself onto an uncomfortable bench near the wall.

His head dropped back, the cold night’s filtered light tracing the uneven plumes of his breathing. He’d been running, and didn’t speak until he’d caught his breath.

“Ambient.”

Ambient rolled over on the raised walk where it’d been asleep. _~Mm.~_

“The kid and I. We - there’s - there’s still some link. Because of the Fury. Right?”

 _~Eh?~_ Green optics lit groggily. _~Ah’ve no idea. The One’s… different.~_

“That’s his name? ‘One’?”

_~Aye.~_

Relative silence settled. The Zoids remained asleep, and Ambient started to drift off again.

That was, until it heard the scrape of teeth on metal and the cock of a gun. Then sharp inhales, sharp exhales. Hesitation.

Very deliberately, very slowly, Ambient pushed up and stood. Its talons clacked as it followed the walkway and descended the stairs.

 _~Lad.~_ It was shaking its head as it approached. _~Y’really gonna just up and blow yeh’r brains out? Yeh just cleaned up the place.~_

Brad said nothing.

_~Ah mean. I’ll be glad to take care’a the mess. But.~_

Nothing.

_~Y’know. Save yeh’r mate the trouble.~_

That did it. Brad pulled the gun’s barrel out of his mouth and glared.

_~There we go. Now, what’s got yeh wanting t’redecorate?~_

* * *

Hunger woke Vega again.

Instead now it was the dead of night, shearing him uncomfortably out of a deep sleep. And the hunger wasn’t just discomfort anymore. It was excruciating, maddening.

He gaped, and couldn’t catch a breath, ribs consumed with what felt like fire.

Oh no.

_One._

The Organoid was outside somewhere, pacing in the night, its ability to communicate clearly degrading by the second. It felt less like a creature and more like shambling, sentient starvation in-mind, but Vega could tell it was trying to censor itself. Both out of necessity, and to keep Zero’s meddling at bay. At this point, it just wanted to eat the white Organoid, too.

Fortunately, everyone else remained fast asleep.

Vega hurried outside, trying to stay silent as he dashed to One and knelt. The Organoid hunkered unsteadily, its chin trailing strings of its silver-tinged drool.

Being both warm and living made Vega stand out in the night. One turned its head sharply to the child’s arrival, slipping its jaws over his entire shoulder, arm, and side. Its fangs pressed into his pale skin everywhere they touched, but none pierced.

Vega wasn’t at all concerned; his trust was absolute. It was the desperation of the act that struck him. One was making an attempt to stay grounded and in control of itself… something made increasingly difficult by the fact their bond made Vega see volunteering to be consumed as somehow reasonable.

He shook his head to clear it.

“Hey, _hey, hey._ You’re okay. We’ll find you something. Is there anything left in the Fury?”

 _~No.~_ The beast replied quietly, forlorn.

Vega cut his eyes at the Blitz hangar, then back. “Think. You want a Zoid. Where _else_ are some Zoids we know we can get to. And _get_. Fast.”

 _~I don’t know.~_ One’s jaws became tighter. _~I don’t know. I don’t-~_

“Come on. Think! There were a ton of Zoids at - _that base._ They’re probably still there. Yeah?”

* * *

Bad things had happened.

He’d had no control of the situation. He’d been used, abused, and now swept aside and expected to just _be_. It was intolerable. It wasn’t fair. And all that seemed to remain were mixed spectacles of horror, any pleasures in life wrung dry by futility.

Ambient listened silently.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been told such things.

Brad’s voice was thin, and shook as he spoke.

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone. I never wanted to.”

 _~Strange thing t’say, when yeh seem t’have already killed, long before all this.~_ Ambient’s optics brightened for emphasis. _~Over money.~_

Every inch of the man’s veins iced.

“I didn’t mean to.”

 _~You shot a man in the back of the head because he stole from you.~_ Ambient smirked at the memory’s intensity. _~...and because you wanted to see what it was like. Because you knew you’d not be caught.~_

“ _It was a mistake._ ”

 _~You think y’can lie? To me?~_ Ambient chuckled unpleasantly. _~Small wondeh’r the One wanted you. He asked, didn’t he?~_

* * *

The effort needed was massive, but paid off. Vega remembered the Mackaray Base’s main hangar in great detail: he’d spent a lot of time hating it.

One cued from the memory and jolted there in seconds. Vega dropped smoothly to a dim catwalk, and One alighted on its rail.

Emergency lighting buzzed here-and-there, off-color. The pervasive drone of base operations - previously taken for granted - were gone. Stagnant, humid air clung with its chill, no more fans, climate control, or ventilation to dispel it.

Other than that, for the most part the hangar seemed intact. Just devoid of people, a fresh abandonment that had yet to begin a journey towards ruin.

Vega hefted himself into a lean over the railing, where he stared at the dark hangar floor below. He clicked his tongue a few times, something he often did to get Zoids’ attention.

From the silence blossomed a chorus of whirring stabilizers and shifting servos. A number of small Zoids’ eyeglass lit attentively, their heads rising in the dark.

Their obedience garnered no reward.

Vega’s face cracked with a vicious smile. He popped the rail with his palms in victory, throwing an eager glance to One. The beast shrieked with a feral delight and dove.

* * *

A gnaw of dread grew in the pit of Brad’s stomach. Not only had he broken into a cold sweat contemplating the Fury - One - again, but Ambient was right. One hadn’t forced his way in. One asked if Brad wanted power and control, the very same things he was after when he’d decided to shoot the double-crosser.

He hadn’t enjoyed it. He did regret it.

But he always knew that if he could somehow undo the decision… he’d just do it again.

The memory was too instructive, a hit of pure confidence to which he could always refer. Nobody else was ever supposed to know that.

Ambient gave a dismissive sniff. _~What you donn’ae want to harm is your allies and your mate. That’s what yeh’r worried about, that’s what y’mean.~_ It shrugged, and raised a cracked brow. _~Why care about anythin’ else? We should always want t’destroy our enemies. They’re… our enemies.~_

“I don’t have _enemies._ I just - I want things to be normal. To feel safe. Know that I w-- that everyone’s gonna be safe.” Brad raked his fingers through the sides of his hair, unsettled. “I don’t think I can do anything about the kid. He’s a shit but he’s not stupid. I just…”

 _~Lad, lad, lad. Look.~_ Ambient reflected a strong, yet idle mental image of the night Brad and Naomi had been ambushed in the forest. _~Every weed’s got its roots. Some, you can pluck.~_

Brad’s pupils pinpointed with the memory of when this mess had all started.

_~And some? Have to burn.~_

Backdraft. The Fuma Team.


	8. Chapter 8

The initial clamor stung. Alarmed Zoids scattered in an animal panic. The rest was surprisingly silent. 

The black Organoid had been quick to single out an unfortunate Rev Raptor. There were many of them here; the small, cheap Zoids were more trouble for Backdraft to quickly relocate than they were worth. 

They - and all the other “worthless” Zoids - had simply been left behind. Not having been outfitted with sleeper units or placed into any kind of standby, they’d also effectively been buried alive. The best they could hope for was several slow decades of dehydration and starvation. By that token, this may have been a mercy.

But there wasn’t much to watch. One had vanished into the Raptor and it’d collapsed shortly after. Vega stared, fixated on the Zoid, watching it twitch and keen with what he knew was pain. The Raptor gradually went slack, dying... then dead.

Brimming with One’s delight, Vega just grinned. It was fine. This was all fine. That Zoid didn’t matter. 

It’d only been a few minutes. One sat crouched in the small, empty Core chamber. Licking its chops, licking the floor of the chamber, comfortably full.

Sated, for the time being.

* * *

He only needed one bag, and by mid-morning it was mostly packed. 

Naomi appeared in the doorway behind him. She watched Brad neatly position things, the precision of practice. “Going somewhere?” 

Brad paused, but didn’t look at her. “Mackaray.”

“Mmhm. And you were going to mention this when?”

As Brad turned to face her, she quickly noticed his shirt shift over an occupied holster on his hip. She raised a questioning brow.

Brad’s face made it clear that he considered lying. He sighed instead. “I wasn’t going to mention it. I want to go take care of some things. Ambient’s coming with me and the Fox. It shouldn’t take long.”

Naomi’s unamused intrigue grew. “Brad. You just barely look like you weren’t run over by a Gustav. And you want to run off into the mountains - with that thing, armed - to… ‘take care’ of what, exactly?”

Brad took a deep breath.

“The Backdraft people who fucked us over. Then I’m going to figure out what to do about that base. I know where it is now.”

Naomi’s blinked, dully. “Come again? You’re going to find them, how? And a base. A whole base. I’m sorry, you and what army are going to do… what?” She flicked her hand. “Just tell the ZBGF and they’ll take care of it.”

“You told me how ‘seriously’ they took your concerns about Backdraft.” Brad’s words were blunt.

Naomi’s jaw visibly set.

“Besides.” Brad said. “That base is all in the forest and underground. Not really their areas of expertise.”

“Nor are they yours. Again: what exactly are you planning to do?”

For a moment, Brad just stared. It was somewhat unsettling. 

“I want us to feel safe again.”

“Are we not?” The woman’s brows arrowed together. “Do you not feel safe?” 

“No. I don’t. We were ambushed, and I was fucked with. For weeks. And you? They just left you. To _die._ ” His voice plunged with anger. “We meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. We’re not here to be discarded.”

The mention of Naomi’s near-death plight dragged an unsettled scowl to her face. Brad’s severe manner struck a nerve she’d been gnawing on, herself. “They’re Backdraft, Brad. Not known for their upstanding behavior.”

“Well, I don’t know about you. But I’m not putting up with that shit anymore.”

Soft-spoken. Serious. There was no wild haze of conviction or need for justice in his eyes. Just a simple and straightforward decision, as if he’d walked up and paid himself handsomely to take on the task. 

Naomi studied the man’s face. 

“That so?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Brad approached and gently nudged Naomi to a wall. She allowed it, glaring up at him with a mock-defiance. He leaned down to her level and was met with a deep, assertive kiss. 

As they parted, she lifted a hand and took hold of his jaw, gently dissuading him from standing upright again. 

“You do know you’re not going anywhere without me, right?” 

Brad grinned in her grasp. He slipped his hands behind her back, ran them sensually down behind her thighs, and lifted her with ease. Naomi wrapped a leg around his hip, looking down her nose at him with a feigned condescension. 

“You’re still working for me, after all.”

Brad’s smile grew. “Oh, yes ma'am.”

* * *

“So.” 

Sara glanced at Steve, who’d spoken. People starting conversations this way had many options. 

“I’ve been dying to know. How’d the Berserk Fury get into the Royal Cup, anyways?”

Sara looked back to her datapad and sipped from a bitter cup of powdered tea. It didn’t go quite as well with breakfast as coffee did, but for _some reason_ there wasn’t any coffee. 

“Bribes.”

“Really? That’s it?”

She shrugged, uninterested. “Simple. Works.”

Steve took a bite of dry toast, looking disappointed. “Yeah. Just thought that the ZBC was a little more. I don’t know. Upstanding.”

The fall in the man’s voice prompted Sara to smirk. Did people actually look up to the ZBC and ZBGF? It was truly difficult for her to fathom. She glanced at him again, arching a brow. 

“The Commission’s as corrupt as they come. They do put on a good show, though. I’ll give them that.”

“Eh _hh_.” Steve made a skeptical, unhappy sound, his nose wrinkling. “Charged particle weapons aren’t safe.”

The woman chuckled. “No weapon’s safe. Charged particle weapons just… ensure compliance.”

Steve thought about the stone Berserk Fury outside. Even dead, the Zoid still made him nervous. “Not sure about that. Maybe back in war days. They’re not registration-legal weapons for a reason.”

A grin. The delight that flashed in Sara’s eyes wasn’t unlike that of a cat who’d just found a mouse to toy with. “Dr. Toros. I find it hard to believe you’ve never considered why the term _registration-legal_ even exists.”

Steve squinted at the formal address. “Of course I’ve considered. It’s for safety.”

Sara very, very deliberately folded her datapad onto the counter, giving the man her full attention. “You don’t sound convinced.” 

Still fresh in Steve’s mind was the visit he’d been paid, officers from the ZBC and ZBGF showing up regarding the discharge of a particle weapon. Only a handful of the weapons were known to exist, and while it wasn’t technically illegal to _have_ them, it was illegal to _use_ them and also not possible to register Zoids that had had such equipment installed. 

Dry toast and mild anxiety didn’t mix well. Steve lost his appetite, set his food down and shook his head. “It was irresponsible of Backdraft to create something like that.”

It was Sara’s turn for a drop in expression. “Backdraft didn’t create the Berserk Fury. Just outfitted it with armor.” She visibly pondered her word choice. “It was... recovered.”

Steve inclined his head, curious. But he looked aside sharply and seemed to think better of it. “...mmh. Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Sara sighed. “Really doesn’t, does it.”

* * *

Bit awoke, a stripe of sunlight across his face.  
  
He was nestled in a sleeping bag, hemmed in on his either side by the firm pressure of metal - comfortably mashed between his Organoid and Zoid, respectively. Zero’s large body was warm in places, cool in others - and quite smooth compared to the subtly-pitted surface of the Liger’s paw.

Observers may not have thought the arrangement comfortable, but Bit couldn’t think of any other place he’d rather be. The Liger above was idle, asleep. Zero’s optics were still dim with sleep as well.  
  
Bit reached and ran a gentle hand along the side of the Organoid’s face, nails carefully scratching key contours. Zero rumbled pleasantly and brightened an optic, rolling more towards the blonde.  
  
A chuckle, and Bit leaned his forehead to the Organoid. There was a simple, complete, _thorough_ pleasure to being with both Zero and his Zoid. It was something he’d never experienced prior the two differentiating, but now that he knew it? He couldn’t imagine being without it again.

It really was the kind of thing he wanted to talk to someone about. But he really didn’t have anyone _to_ talk with about it. 

He sat up a little, looking around for Vega.  
  
Vega would probably get it. But Bit wasn’t really sure, and didn’t want to bring up the blatant sore-spot of the Fury. Too often he’d seen Vega standing at the hangar’s uneven threshold, glowering at his dead Zoid.  
  
A full-body shudder. Bit couldn’t help it. 

He’d admit it to himself and no-one else: the Berserk Fury had _terrified_ him. Not at the Royal Cup, of course - but afterwards. He’d never experienced a fear that profound, and hoped never to again. He’d never wanted this distinction in his head, but had it now: there were battles for fun, and battles _for real._ _  
__  
_The latter’s existence uncomfortably tarnished the former.

Bit had every confidence he’d still be able to excel in sanctioned battles once they restarted. And he wanted to look forward to the challenges promised by Class S.  
  
But it all rang so hollow. 

He had more money than he’d ever dreamed possible. He had everything he’d ever really needed, wanted - and more. Over the past week in particular, things had felt so surreal he occasionally wondered if he’d wake up in his junk truck, the texture of the steering wheel imprinted on his face. Having dreamt the whole thing.  
  
Zero idly rasped its tongue from the blonde’s shoulder to his ear. There wasn’t a damn thing to worry about, and they both knew it. 

Bit stifled a smile, simply unable to believe his good fortune.  
  
His searching green eyes also finally found Vega and One. The two were curled up and asleep in the dark recess created by a small stack of crates. The black Organoid usually gave Bit sharp regard when their focus met, but not this time. One was unusually relaxed-looking, deeply asleep.  
  
As was Vega. 

Bit glanced outside, trying to guess what time it was. Late morning, he supposed.  
  
No real reason to wake anyone regardless. It wasn’t as if anything was going on. With a massive yawn the blonde stood, stretched, and plodded off to find breakfast. 

Zero rolled onto its back and yawned also, content to just lay in the sun.  
  


* * *

It was always such a relief to see the deserts recede and to plunge into cool, deep green forest - a private delight to watch the blinding sun disappear into the flickering mottle of foliage. Almost a reverie: Brad silently thanked the stars that such a simple pleasure hadn’t been stripped from him. 

He’d had the mild, but unspoken concern that his mind may now want to associate the wilderness and its precious solitude with things going sideways. But that wasn’t the case.  
  
He and Naomi had come here for much more than solitude, however. A lot more observation than usual was called for. There were signs of recent Zoid activity in the area, though ‘recent’ was relative - a lot of it seemed to represent an exodus that had passed. 

After two fruitless days of searching and scouting, Brad began considering continuing on towards Mount Iselina. But both he and the Fox then spotted it: a single, fresh track barely pressed into a soft patch in the muddy forest floor.  
  
The Shadow Fox looked it over. Brad didn’t get the details of its analysis, but they didn’t matter - he got the Zoid’s confidence it was their quarry. He nodded absently, having the Fox slow to a crawl as it flared its sensory equipment.  
  
Nothing hostile in the immediate vicinity. 

The Gun Sniper crept up beside the Fox after a few minutes, its stalk careful and deliberate. The two Zoids softly chittered as their pilots spoke in equally hushed tones. Naomi had expressed serious doubt that the Geno Saurers would still be anywhere in the region - but Brad and the Fox thought otherwise, Brad positing that perhaps the group had hung around to watch for activity around the base. 

It’d also serve Backdraft and the Fuma Team’s interests to keep the Geno Saurers well-hidden in caves or forested areas, as opposed to unnecessarily risking them on open terrain. Once the initial shock of their appearance at the Royal Cup had worn off, it was obvious that they’d be sought after - for a multitude of reasons.  
  
Brad glanced skyward and wondered if the ZBC’s new Satellite was able to see through the foliage any better than its predecessors. 

Battles weren’t held in densely forested areas for both practical and security reasons. Not only did dense permagrowth provide deep visual occlusion (what fun was that to watch?), the high metallic content of the trees threw off the long-range sensors of Judges and Satellites.  
  
It was part of what made the Fox so special. To it, the lush mountain forests became as transparent and navigable as any other terrain. Combined with its snappy algorithmic ability to trace paths through dense trees...  
  
The couple stopped for the evening and made a small, tight camp as had become their usual. They slept in the Fox’s cockpit, while Ambient rested on the ground below.  
  
Even with Naomi asleep in his arms, the two buried in a blanket in one of the safest places he could think of - his Fox - Brad lay awake, staring silently into the dark.  
  
They were in no danger. That’s why they weren’t in a tent, weren’t on the ground. The confines of a wide one-seat cockpit was but a small price to pay for security.

The Fox stood, at rest. Its CPU was idle and command system background but a soft hum.  
  
Every time Brad started to doze, he’d recall the silence and abandonment of being left in a tiny cell for days on end. And every time he startled awake, he felt the panicked sting of being brought out only to satiate the Fury, to feel the questionable snaps of flesh and bone below th-  
  
Brad sharply inhaled and opened his eyes.  
  
From below, Ambient glanced up at the cockpit.  
  
That was certainly something he wished he could get out of his head.  
  
But oh, how he missed the Fury. 

He hated the thought, hated himself for the thought. But remembering how it felt to pilot scratched a deep itch. It felt dangerous to indulge, but painful to ignore, and he just wanted to dig nails into that aching edge of his thoughts, just remember, just think about it, just-  
  
Naomi stretched, shifting against him. Brad froze to let her move as she wanted, untensing slightly as she pressed close again. She pulled the blanket taut over them both, and resumed the deep, even breathing of sleep.  
  
Brad ran a hand down Naomi’s side and closed his eyes again, somewhat more relaxed.  
  
Ambient yawned, watching a light snow begin to fall. It rumbled softly to itself and curled up to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Vega stirred from sleep, aware again of One’s deep roil of hunger.  
  
It wasn’t alarming now though. And it was all too easy for the two to vanish into the night.  
  


* * *

  
The Fox’s cockpit stayed comfortably warm all night, Brad and Naomi asleep and nestled safely within. 

As the sun began to rise and the Shadow Fox stirred from its rest, it slowly registered the snow that’d piled up on its body overnight. 

This was a _development_.  
  
Mindful of the sleeping humans in its head, the Shadow Fox turned minutely to look at the Gun Sniper. It was also covered in snow.  
  
The Fox chirped quietly, rousing the Sniper - which seemed equally surprised. It chuffed in alarm and shook off, craning its neck to inspect the snow. Ambient had slept under the Fox, so avoided the actual snowfall. It brightened an optic to regard the Zoids.  
  
 _~Whh? It’s just snow.~_ It said gruffly to their unspoken queries, relaying the rest of the concept to them in a quicker, more abstract way. Both Zoids listened intently, and settled when provided an explanation. 

The Fox then carefully scooped a heaping paw’s worth of snow overtop Ambient, burying the Organoid completely.  
  
When Ambient sat up, the snow rose with his crested head. It shook off, optics narrowing. 

_~Tod.~_  
  
The Fox’s digital growl trilled, playful.  
  
Ambient sighed and relocated with a flash to the Fox’s core chamber, not seeking to fuse with it - rather just content to lazily bask beside the Core’s warmth. He felt the Zoid rumble, and rumbled right back. Ambient was in no mood to play.  
  
The Fox stewed with brief disappointment before turning to the seated Gun Sniper. It began to gently groom the sheeting icemelt off the smaller Zoid’s back. The Gun Sniper warbled, stretching as its joints warmed and seeming to enjoy this treatment.  
  
Naomi awoke at the Gun Sniper’s sounds, and glanced out the cockpit window to see what was going on. She saw the snow, saw nothing was amiss, then looked at Brad. 

The man was out like a light, snoring softly, mouth slightly open. It was one of few times she could remember him actually seem _asleep_ since he’d returned.  
  
Naomi couldn’t help but wonder if this arrangement - the two comfortably confined within a trusted Zoid - helped provide the man whatever sense of _safety_ Brad felt he lacked. 

Her eyes rolled. 

But she caught herself, stomach dropping with mild disgust at her own thoughts. 

Who was she to belittle his concerns, well-masked as they may have been? He didn’t downplay her fears at having been left out to die, something which she was still trying to process. And he’d been through so much more.  
  
She did understand the need to _do_ something. Naomi wasn’t sure what they’d be able to accomplish, but reasoned she’d rather be working towards a goal - and helping Brad do the same - than continue to watch the man hide in the hangar and apartment.  
  


* * *

  
Sara sat in a too-large bathrobe in a too-small guest quarters, her eyes closed. With slow, almost meditative grace the woman ran a brush through her silky hair.  
  
A twinge.  
  
Sara cracked an eye. She hadn’t heard anything, but-  
  
“Ma’am.”  
  
She closed her eye again, sweeping slightly-damp hair into a clip. In the same, smooth motion she shifted her weight, turned her shoulder, and produced a pistol which she pointed towards the voice.  
  
It was a voice she recognized, but that didn’t mean much.  
  
“Polta.” Her tone was deadpan. 

The pale man appeared meekly from one corner, hands and palms showing.  
  
Sara didn’t budge. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I’ve been looking for you and Vega.” He said quietly. He wasn’t wearing any Backdraft attire, but rather an unassuming gray and green outfit trimmed conservatively with gold. The gold matched his striking eyes, which weren’t obscured by his usual visor. “We- no one had any idea what had become of you two.”  
  
“That’s intentional.” Sara said coolly. “So as you might surmise, I’m not terribly glad to see you.”  
  
“I’ve left.” Came the simple reply. 

Only two words, but Sara understood without elaboration.  
  
The woman squinted. 

Polta didn’t seem to be lying. Regardless, she leveled the gun at him.  
  
“Why.”  
  
Polta’s eyes dropped to the floor, and he winced. “Ma’am. With all due respect. I worked under Alteil for over a decade. And then you, when you overtook his position. There’s an… unfortunate reputation this has lent me.”  
  
The man raised his eyes, raised his brows, and though he didn’t say it, Sara got the distinct impression that an attempt had _already_ been made on the man’s life. She watched his throat work anxiously.  
  
Her own concerns were warranted.  
  
“They wanted you quiet?”  
  
Polta just smiled, faintly and nervously. “Mhm. I took that as my cue to leave.”  
  
It read on his face, to Sara at least. He’d killed whoever was after him, but he didn’t enjoy it. Probably an easily-swayed colleague. Sara just studied the man icily, expression unchanging.  
  
“The Committee’s in chaos.” Polta went on. ”And I know you didn’t like him. But Alteil’s loss was … immense. He’d done a lot for the Organization. Held a lot of little things together.”  
  
“So have I and so did I.” Sara stated, and finally lowered the pistol. “I can’t offer you anything. I don’t have anything.”  
  
Polta dipped his head deferentially, and kept it down. “Ma’am. I really did just want to see if you were all right.” His gaze, but not his head, rose. “I… do value what you brought to the Organization. And think that you may be indispensable in getting it back on track.”  
  
Sara’s stony expression finally broke with a scowl. “No amount of détente will bring the damn Committee together at this point. What’s needed is a clean slate.”

“I’d not be so bold as to say it, ma’am. But. Agreed.”  
  


* * *

  
When the Fox had found scant sign of a Geno Saurer the previous day, the concept of a threat was distant and unlikely. 

Fresh tracks in new snow from one of the beasts came as an unpleasant reminder of what they were actually here for, and after. 

Naomi retrieved the firearms she’d brought with her from their cases, uneasily stashing them in the Gun Sniper’s cockpit. Given the nature of their pursuit, it’d been hard to make solid plans about what exactly to do if they actually found the Zoids - and pilots - they were after. 

With the fluid grace of habit, Naomi slipped off to find a vantage and track the Geno Saurer from on-high, so as to provide Brad and the Fox with a broader view than what they could pick up alone. The couple and their Zoids functioned near-seamlessly as a unit - a single, unchained animal that had never before been free to express such synergy.  
  
The afternoon’s shadows lengthened slowly. 

The Saurer had been consistently stopping, identifying something in the ground, then ripping it up to destroy it. An oddly mundane-looking task for a unit like a Geno Saurer - but perhaps something only they had the strength and destructive power to easily accomplish solo. The devices looked like sensor or communications equipment - likely something Backdraft didn’t want in the hands of, or to be used by, anyone else.  
  
Naomi had long since settled in to keep a patient eye on the Saurer, quite used to protracted spans of staring through a scope.  
  
 _Confidence._ It was something she’d been stripped of during the unexpected fight with the Fury, and was left silently shaken as a result. But the woman’s velvet sense of superiority crept back as she simply watched, knowing what power lay in the simple act of surprise.  
  
She did notice Brad enacting what seemed to be a much more complex plan than he’d let on. She’d watched the man establish a perimeter with the Fox, and watched the shadowy Zoid slink from one vantage to the next in its careful, deliberate way. To what end, she wasn’t sure.   
  
The sun eventually dipped and began to arrow into the trees. 

Brad gave a vague signal. 

Ambient skulked now into plain view, clearly trying - and succeeding - to get the Geno Saurer and it’s pilot’s attention. The resulting hesitation, confusion, and caution were palpable even from this distance. The Saurer even showed sign of being only tenuously under command.  
  
Ambient circled deliberately into the blaze of sunlight reflecting from the snow. The Geno Saurer’s head and optical readouts followed.  
  
And it was from this brightness the Shadow Fox burst, slamming charged laser claws into the Saurer and tearing it off of its feet, down to its side. The saurian Zoid recovered smoothly with a roll and whirled to face the Fox, roaring-  
  
It was way too easy. Naomi fired a single shot and the Geno Saurer staggered and shrieked, struck in the neck. 

The massive Zoid hit the ground hard and thrashed to right itself, but Naomi quickly reloaded and put an end to those efforts. While there wasn’t any Judge to verify the takedown, she was confident that the Saurer was in a CSF.  
  
After a broad and careful sweep to ensure there weren’t any of this Saurer’s teammates lurking about, Naomi started down towards the small clearing.   
  


* * *

  
Ambient watched Fuma intently as she staggered from the cockpit, cussing and looking wildly around. 

Fuma clearly had no real idea what’d hit the Zoid or from where, other than possibly the now-gone Shadow Fox… which she really wasn’t even sure she’d _seen_. In addition, there’d been what’d seemed to be an _Organoid_ , which she was worried she’d straight-up hallucinated.

She scanned the area carefully, staring the way the Fox had gone for several tense minutes. She knelt to feel the ground for the weight of a Zoid’s movement. Nothing.  
  
She listened closely.  
  
The forest was completely silent, except for the sound of wind and the rustle of icy branches. Beyond that, all she heard was the foreboding whine of her Zoid’s Command System Freeze. No Zoid, no heat, no sensors… no comms.  
  
Fuma sighed angrily. “ _Fuck._ ” 

This entire mindless task was already beneath her, a sore point layered in among many others from the tumultuous past several weeks. But she did recognize the necessity of not leaving key installations behind for the ZBGF or ZBC to find - and she felt more than a vague loyalty to the Backdraft in spite of Alteil’s demise. She knew the rest of her Team felt similarly. 

In truth, the Fuma Team were indeed simply mercenaries, working for whoever paid. But Alteil - and the Backdraft Organization, by extension - had always had their back.  
  
She just hadn’t expected anything to happen in this cold and silent forest. During her few months of working in the Mackaray region she’d seen more of Zi’s pestilent wildlife than anything else. Even those glimpses had been few and far between.  
  
The snowy ground crunched under the woman’s boots as she paced in front of the Geno Saurer, assessing both the damage and her options. 

She kept glancing warily over her shoulder, clearly disturbed by the feel of Ambient’s predatory gaze... but was unable to identify what it was, or where it came from.  
  
When Fuma finally came across the entry wound in the Saurer’s neck, she registered the damage as an excruciatingly precise Sniper’s shot. The woman blanched at the belated realization, reflexively taking cover while scanning what little of the distance she could see through the dimming trees.  
  
Who’d taken these shots? From where? Were they still out there? Fuma swiftly retrieved her gun from the cockpit and holstered it, eyes never leaving her back unguarded for more than a few seconds. 

Unfortunately a few seconds was all Ambient needed. He stepped heavily into view and snarled, a collection of dangerous crimson curves that demanded her attention. 

Fuma faced the Organoid, pistol immediately drawn and at the ready. Far from panicked or reckless, she studied the creature carefully. Uncertain.   
  
Ambient chuckled at her gumption. _~Cannae hurt me with that, lass. You’d best run.~_  
  
The woman firmly stood her ground, weapon trained on the Organoid. “You talk?”  
  
 _~Mhmm.~_ Ambient tapped a foreclaw on its wrist, indicating a nonexistent watch. _~You’re wastin’ yehr only chance.~_  
  
“What are you? What do you want?!”  
  
 _~Not really about me or what ah want. Ah’m just here for some fun. S’about what he wants.~_  
  
Fuma glanced, just in time to be seized in a headlock by Brad.  
  
The long-haired man was taller than her, and strong. But she was well-trained, lithe, and completely wired by adrenaline. Fuma jabbed an elbow hard into the man’s chest and spun to face him, bringing her pistol to bear-  
  
She _tried_ to bring her pistol to bear. 

Instead she found both arms ensnared by thick silver cabling, which went taut and wrenched everything from wrist to scapula painfully backwards. She yelped, both dropping her gun and losing her balance. She staggered several failed steps before collapsing to the ground.   
  
Brad blinked and looked at Ambient.  
  
 _~Lad, I know you’re new at this.~_ The Organoid watched Fuma struggle to get up, and rather cruelly delighted in thwarting her attempts. _~But if you’re try’na kill someone, assume they want t’kill you back.~_ The creature’s voice dipped with menace. _~Act acoo’rdingly.~_  
  
A simple nod was the reply. 

Ambient let up only to allow Brad to drive a knee into Fuma’s back. The man ripped off her thick jacket- where it looked obvious that other, smaller weapons could be -and threw it to the side.  
  
The red Organoid slinked close and lashed quick, merciless cabling around the woman’s neck, wrists, and ankles, allowing Brad to stand while Fuma stayed firmly bound.  
  
Brad dusted himself off and regarded Fuma. Surprise and confidence somehow blended in his expression: it all-too-clearly read on his face that he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to actually find the Fuma Team, nevermind take action against them. 

Yet here he was, having subdued the Team’s leader. A validating experience, to say the least. 

Now what?  
  
Fuma shuddered against Ambient’s grip, muscles visibly cording as she tried to break free. It didn’t work, and after a few tries she stopped and just glared. 

The Sniper shot and Shadow Fox combo now made a little more sense: the two were a team. Naomi Fluegel had obviously survived. Not that it explained the Organoid, but. 

Fuma cursed under her breath. “What do you want?”  
  
Brad smiled, but it was devoid of kindness.  
  
“I need to know something. Did you know what Backdraft was doing?”  
  
Fuma scowled. Backdraft was doing a lot at any given time. “Going to have to be a little more specific, Hunter.”  
  
Brad stepped closer. “When you and - I assume, your teammates - decided to fuck me and Naomi over. _Did you know. What Backdraft was doing._ ”  
  
Fuma’s eyes flicked with thought. Something with the Berserk Fury. She knew Jack had died. She knew that several people had died. She hadn’t really bothered herself with it. She didn’t want to pilot the Fury - they’d asked. 

It was entertaining to ambush people. She had nothing against any of these individuals personally... she just felt justified in taking out her frustration with the state of things on others. And her Team - especially now with the might of the Geno Saurers - was brutally efficient at whatever it sought to do.  
  
Watching Brad’s icy eyes study her face, though… she determined with some trepidation that there was another Team that may have been _slightly more_ brutally efficient.  
  
She should’ve had the Sniper pilot crushed into the dirt when she had the chance.  
  
“Simple question, Fuma.”  
  
The woman closed her eyes. “No. I didn’t.”  
  
 _~Och. Such a liar.~_ Ambient’s grip tightened.  
  


* * *

  
Leon speared Polta with a glare. As far as lethal stares went, this one would've had the wiry man long dead and ash.

"Backdraft. Isn't. Welcome. Here."

"He's not with them anymore. Like us." Sara said as she idly placed herself between Leon and Polta. She held up a hand for defensive emphasis. "Case in point, he's already had people after him."

That just caused Leon to sharply arch a brow. "Not into baiting hitmen, either."

Vega stood across the way, his arms neatly folded behind his head as he leaned on a wall. "Come on. You know we won't let anyone bad in here."

"I find your standards lacking." Leon eyed the disturbingly-docile black Organoid on the floor beside the child, before glancing back at Sara. "Steve said _you_ could stay." He then looked pointedly at Polta. "Nothing about you. Get out."

Sara frowned. "Surely you'd not send him out t-"

"No. Stop. Your problems are not mine. We do not want your problems. Or his problems. Or Backdraft's problems."

"Have one little unsanctioned battle and this guy stays mad at you for life," Polta muttered, though his attempt at sarcasm found itself both hamstrung by anxiety, then steamrolled by Leon's fierce gaze.

The young Toros flexed his bandaged hands and forearms with barely-contained anger. He smiled, but it was unmistakably hostile. "I'm not feeling particularly charitable towards an Organization that keeps trying its hardest to kill my friends. _Get. Out._ "

"I'm not the whole damn org," Polta said through his teeth. "And why would I-"

He stopped talking when Leon took a step towards him. Every inch of the larger man's body language read as someone ready to fight. But he glanced up as he noticed his father. Steve had stepped into the room at some point, and consternation made deep lines on his face.

"Leon."

The whites flashed irritably in Leon's eyes. Steve's tone was a familiar one. Paternal, scolding - stopping just shy of condescension, but making unmistakable claim to authority. Their eyes locked, and both men faintly showed their teeth.

Leon averted his gaze after several seconds, but swept his arm loosely towards those in the room.   
  
"These people are criminals, Steve. You know that, right?"

"So's Layon," Steve replied, sounding bored. "It doesn't matter, especially if they've left the-"

Leon angrily shook his head and stalked off in an abrupt silence, not allowing his father to finish the sentence.

Steve watched him go, sighed, and glanced back.

Without delay, Polta offered his hand in obsequious introduction.  
  


* * *

  
Naomi arrived just in time to see Brad smoothly lifting his revolver and pointing it straight at Fuma’s face. Without thinking, she bolted close and shoved his wrist to the side. 

"What are you doing?!"

Brad coolly glanced, face taut with brief ire. But his eyes were a picture of calm. "Solving problems."

"She-"

" _She_ led the attack on us. _She_ left you for dead. _She_ wouldn't hesitate to kill _you_."

Fuma had long since closed her eyes, but opened them again to look at Naomi. Recognition seared both: Fuma realized she was correct. Her Zoid had indeed been taken out by the damn Red Comet.  
  
Naomi saw the flash of both recognition and realization. Her unspoken authority offered a brief, empowering high; she curled her lip at Fuma, but the expression weakened as she took in Ambient’s involvement. 

Good lord, these things didn’t ever seem to get _less_ disturbing.   
  
Fuma shook her head. "Hunter, I didn’t- _Fluegel-_ "

" _Shut the fuck up._ " Brad snapped. He looked again at Naomi. "What, were you hoping to just scare them straight? Because that’s not what I’m here for. Not after what they did to us."

Naomi's throat worked uncertainly. "You’re not this kind of person."

The man raised a brow. “You know exactly what kind of person I am.” 

She did. Probably better than anyone else on Zi. That suddenly became the concern. Brad’s silent but unyielding intensity seemed to apply equally to everything he did. Battles, sex, and apparently now murder.  
  
"Brad. We can't. We shouldn’t."

"Who's going to care, Naomi. Backdraft?"

" _Hunter-_ " Fuma desperately tried to interject again. Brad cut her off, jamming the muzzle of the gun hard through the woman’s curly hair. " _I said_ shut up."

Naomi stared, silent for several seconds, studying Brad's face. 

Every line there was deeply, deeply hurt and bitter - but not angry.   
  
Realization hit her hard.

"Brad.” She said, tense. “That CPG wasn't the only time, was it."

His eyes snapped to Naomi’s, furious. But she recognized the expression for exactly what it was: a paper-thin veneer over fear. He said nothing. 

" _Answer me._ " She demanded.

"No. It wasn't.” He took a shallow breath, uninterested in elaborating. 

Naomi processed this for a few moments. “What happened?”  
  
“The fucking Berserk Fury happened.”  
  
"Well... it isn't here now. You are. Why make things worse?"

Brad pointedly pulled the trigger. The crack of gunshot echoed in the forest. Fuma slumped lifelessly backwards to the now gore-flecked ground. 

" _Fuck!_ " Naomi turned away and clamped a hand over her mouth.  
  
"Because they can’t _get_ worse.” Brad replied through his teeth. “Only better. Don't look away. This is what keeping people safe looks like. Keeping _us_ safe looks like."

" _Brad, you can't-_ "

"I can. I did. Can you honestly tell me that you don't feel better knowing that there's one less piece of shit in the world that doesn't think twice about ruining people's lives?"

Naomi felt her heart in her throat and was fighting a vague urge to vomit, watching the trickling crawl of deep crimson through the patchy snow on the ground. But as much as she wanted to be outraged, disgusted, horrified - she wasn’t. 

Because Brad wasn't wrong. 

She struggled with deep revulsion, trying to sort through this. 

Brad went on. "Remember the Sand Stingrays? What'd you call them... cockroaches? If they're roaches, what's Backdraft? Especially knowing what you know now?"  
  
They both knew that Backdraft had killed a number of people solely in the pursuit of finding a pilot for the Fury. That number included Jack Sisco. Naomi knew the Taskers had been devastated, and by them was constantly reminded how close she herself came to losing Brad.  
  
Nevermind her own life.

Brad holstered his revolver and stepped closer to Naomi, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close. Naomi didn't resist, and relaxed into the man. She dropped her forehead into the crook of his neck - and felt his quick, anxious pulse. 

He wasn't indifferent, cold-blooded. He was terrified. 

In a burning instant Naomi recognized how very real his agitation was, despite the cool demeanor he was forcing. She looked up at his face and saw him scanning the area with quick, hostile flicks of his eyes. Defensive.  
  
With considerable rising bile, Naomi also realized the control she had over this situation. Brad and the Fox had ultimately only been able to overtake Fuma because of _her_ own keen abilities to track and pin targets. Not to mention her taking the unsuspecting Geno Saurer offline.   
  
Naomi had never really used her many weapons for anything more drastic than Zoid combat, target shooting, and self-defense. But Brad was right. This was how one ensured safety. In a way, it was self-defense. Taken to its logical extreme.  
  
Brad gradually calmed down. He looked down at Naomi with a sigh, sounding resigned. 

“You’re still the boss. If you want, I’ll turn myself in for this. But I’m not sorry. And I’m not going to be. I just want what’s best for us. For everyone.”  
  
There was silence for a time. 

Naomi carefully studied the man’s earnest blue eyes. 

Then she brought her arms around Brad and pulled him to her level for a kiss, which he leaned into. By the time they separated, both were breathless. 

Naomi started to push Brad’s jacket from his shoulders. He quickly got the hint and shrugged out of it, gently undoing Naomi’s overcoat in kind. 

It was too cold to wholly undress, but they’d had plenty of practice while half-clothed. Lust replaced anxiety, and it all turned deeply carnal in a passionate expression of acceptance. 

Standing off to one side, Ambient indulgently watched.


	10. Chapter 10

Brief physical bliss blunted stress. They could be no closer.  
  
It wasn’t until passion cooled that Brad and Naomi independently and silently acknowledged they’d just indulged in a quickie next to a corpse. Neither spoke as they hastily zipped up and pulled their coats back on, the air’s chill quick to settle in. Brad continued to seek contact, loath for the approval to stop.  
  
Naomi sighed and looked around, clearing her throat. “Well. Guess we should… get going.”  
  
Brad nodded. Unlike Naomi, his idle regard of Fuma’s body was unflinching. He’d been party to much worse. 

“You go on ahead. See if there’s any sign of the other Saurers. I’ll catch up.”  
  
Naomi made an agreeable sound and started towards her Gun Sniper, though paused and looked back at Brad.  
  
“What are we going to do about…” She motioned with her head.  
  
Brad glanced at Ambient.  
  


* * *

Bit silently watched Leon stalk into the hangar and to the Blade Liger. 

The Zoid regarded Leon and chuffed a greeting, with an air Bit could only interpret as confused awkwardness. The Blade Liger clearly didn’t understand _why_ Leon was upset… just that he was.  
  
Leon touched his Liger’s leg fondly, returning the greeting. Then he sank into a seated slouch on the Zoid’s wrist armor, and went quiet. He hadn’t noticed Bit.  
  
As the silence grew, so did Bit’s unease. Zero similarly had its attention on the young Toros, and Bit felt the swell of the Organoid’s perception. Though Leon showed no outward sign of it, just behind his eyes raged an incredibly bitter agitation.

The blonde’s face wrinkled with discomfort, both out of empathy and out of a sense he had no real right to be perceiving this.  
  
Leon closed his eyes and leaned his forehead onto the Blade Liger’s leg. 

Silence, for several minutes more.  
  
“Hey.” Bit finally said from across the hangar. “You okay, man?”  
  
Purple eyes snapped open, but didn’t look up. Leon’s pupils pinpointed with displeasure. He didn’t say anything.  
  
Zero gathered itself and stood, then approached. Leon watched the white Organoid and inhaled deeply when it stopped near him.  
  
“You talk too, I take it.”  
  
 _~Of course.~_  
  
Leon nodded, once. He shifted his eyes to Bit’s approach, looked between the two, and spoke to Bit.  
  
“Are these things… okay?”  
  
“Okay?” Bit looked Zero over, then back at Leon. “I mean… yeah? I can’t speak for all of them. But Zero’s amazing.” A slight smile. “And he thinks you’re awesome.”   
  
Better than Ambient’s opinion of him, Leon supposed. And presumably One’s. The man warily studied the looming white Organoid, stuck bringing to mind the concerns Naomi had expressed to him about Ambient. 

Mind, they’d both been completely stoned while discussing said concerns. But... she’d obviously waited until Brad nodded off to bring them up. 

Were these things safe to be around? Were they loyal? Would they hurt anyone? Did they need to be kept secret? Who did they answer to?  
  
 _~We are not dogs.~_ Zero said bluntly, with a mild condescension kept private to Leon. _~Everyone acts of their own accord. No different than you. No different than Bit.~_  
  
The scold felt so paternal that Leon resented it on those grounds alone. He didn’t say anything, just looked back at Bit. 

The blonde smiled in response, an attempt at comfort.  
  
“I shouldn’t have come back.” Leon concluded after a few moments.  
  
And he didn’t mean recently. He meant in general. The man leaned again onto the cold steel edge of his Liger’s foreleg, shaking his head. 

He missed Naomi, whose pleasant company he’d become accustomed to while on the Fluegel Team. He missed Brad, who had long been a cornerstone of the Blitz Team. Recent events’ strain notwithstanding, Leon had been close friends with the mercenary for many years. 

The other night, Brad and Naomi had started lazily making out just behind him. Naomi gently, playfully encouraged Leon to join in, something which the man wasn’t entirely sure how to parse. He wasn’t sure he still belonged in this space in general, nevermind mixed up between the two.

Naomi had taken one of his hands and softly kissed his wrapped knuckles. As if to say: he’d never stopped belonging. 

After all, he’d not been asked to leave the Fluegel Team. He’d done it out of a blind sense of obligation to his father, to Leena, to Jaime - the Blitz Team. And in deference to Brad.  
  
Now the man was simply stressed, in pain, and lonely, and didn’t want to think about it. It or anything else. 

He didn’t want to worry about the potentially-dangerous strangers in his home, but didn’t want to feel at ease around them either. He didn’t want to argue with his father, but also didn’t want to be overruled by default, and didn’t want to be treated like a child. He didn’t want to think about these damn Organoids, didn’t want to worry about Naomi, didn’t want to doubt that Brad knew what he was doing...  
  
But he didn’t have a choice.   
  
“Well. I’m glad you did.” Bit said after a span, voice quiet. “I’d probably be dead otherwise.”  
  
Leon looked directly at the blonde, whose green eyes had glossed with sincerity - and poorly-masked fear.  
  
Bit’s honest and optimistic approaches to things were what had prompted Leon to stop cowering in the base to begin with. Prompted Leon to go out, to do something with himself, his skills, and his life - something instead of sitting and aging at the helm of a mediocre Team.  
  
“I’d probably be dead _inside_ if you’d never shown up to begin with, Bit. I should be thanking you.”  
  
Bit smiled and held out a friendly hand, which the Blade Liger pilot gently accepted. 

“Let’s just say we’re even then, eh?” Bit said.  
  
“Works for me.”

* * *

  
Naomi had left by this point, and Brad was glad that she had.  
  
Ambient made short work of the body, jaws shearing with methodical ease through flesh and cracking bone. The creature wolfed each chunk down then looked at Brad attentively, licking its chops. Dark-red blood oozed from the corners of its mouth.  
  
Brad just stood there, looking… moderately troubled.  
  
The Organoid rumbled and stooped to the ground, wiping its face back and forth across dirt and snow. _~We can chew up Zoids, lad. Flesh isnae anything.~_  
  
It was less a “flesh” issue and more an “entire person had just effectively been erased in about 60 seconds” issue. Systematically, no less. 

“You uh… done this before?”  
  


* * *

  
There wasn’t much of the day left by the time the Fox caught up with the Gun Sniper. The two Zoids’ friendly comm-chatter ensured they could easily find one another, at the slight risk of their pings being intercepted. It wasn’t likely though, given that no one knew to look or listen for them in particular.   
  
Regardless, neither Zoid nor human found any sign of another Saurer before dark.  
  
It was decided to stop again for the night. Brad was quick to set up a tiny camp and fix a warm meal, his every action slanted towards improving Naomi’s visibly-flagging mood. The two sat and ate silently, afterward drawing close and regarding the small campfire. 

“You doing okay?” Brad said quietly.  
  
A delay. 

“Not sure.” Naomi pressed back into Brad’s chest. “You?”  
  
“I… feel like we can get this done.”  
  
Naomi’s throat worked. But she nodded. 

“It is better if they’re out of the picture, isn’t it. Cockroaches.”  
  
Brad simply nodded back.  
  
The night went silent for a while, punctuated only by the fire’s crackling and occasional chitter of the forest’s wary fauna. Naomi’s eyes flicked with unspoken thought, and at length she looked up at Brad again.  
  
“Why did you lie about what happened at Backdraft?”  
  
A frown. “I didn’t lie.”  
  
“You said more people were killed. You didn’t mention that originally.”  
  
Oh. Brad exhaled deeply. 

He’d no real desire to lie to Naomi. She was one of few people he was able to at all drop his guard around. The lie by omission was more to protect her, than anything - though protect her from what, Brad suddenly wasn’t sure. Naomi was clearly able to deal with unpleasant realities. 

He fought against a wave of nausea. Brad realized with some dread that _he_ was the one he was shielding from those thoughts. Free of One’s influence, he had to own all of it. And none of those people had deserved to die. 

Especially not like that.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Naomi’s voice hardened. “If we’re out here because of it, I think you should.”  
  
Brad glanced down at her, and she sternly met his gaze. Neither said anything. 

The man finally sighed and looked aside, resigned. 

“Fine. But swear to me you’ll never repeat any of this.”  
  
“Why would I-”  
  
“ _Swear to me_.”  
  
She’d never heard that level of straight fear in anyone’s voice before, nevermind Brad’s. She didn’t like it.  
  
The woman showed her palms submissively. ”I swear.”  
  
Brad fixed a stare on her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then he closed his eyes.  
  
“Look. I’m sorry, but - I could be put to death for some of this. I killed… at least three ZBGF officers. And some people from the ZBC. And I don’t even know who else. I lost count. They just kept _throwing_ them in front of us. Piloting Zoids with disabled weapons.”  
  
Brad opened his eyes and made sharp eye contact. 

“Let me be absolutely clear. These weren’t battles, and they weren’t fair. These were executions, on display for some real sick fucks. Most of the pilots surrendered early on. Some even fled their cockpits. But not one of them got out of there alive.”  
  
The Shadow Fox turned its head towards the two and emitted a low whine.  
  
“And I’ve got to live with that. Because I was at the _fucking_ controls.” The man’s eyes caught the firelight’s edges, his face a mix of disgust and anger. “You wanna know what I could’ve happily gone my whole life without? Feeling people’s bones crack through the floorboard.”

Naomi just stared, frozen. Horrified. 

Brad pointedly looked away and didn’t say anything else.  
  
Silence.  
  
Naomi took one of his hands in both of hers, and held it.  
  


* * *

  
The desert sun had barely set, the skies beginning their usual crawl towards darkness.  
  
Cool wind snaked about, tousling Vega’s hair as he sat cross-legged in the hangar on his sleeping bag. He was scrolling idly through a datapad.  
  
The feeling hit him hard and fast, a jolt of pain in his sides and under his diaphragm: profound hunger. He briefly gaped at its intensity, taking several breaths. Every night now. One wanted to go back to that base. Wanted to feel that precious few hours of satiation.  
  
And that’s all it lasted for. Hours. Barely a day. Vega tried to recall how many Zoids were at Mackaray. A great number of them, yes, abandoned to their fates. But-  
  
One reflected intense excitement, scrambling clear thought. Vega kept trying to breathe evenly, overwhelming hunger pangs dragging him into the beast’s mental riptide.  
  
“Every night?” He whispered through his teeth.  
  
 _~I am so hungry and it is so good. I desire more.~_  
  
Vega couldn’t help but relish in the eagerly-shared sensation. One being well-fed and content was the single greatest peace Vega had ever experienced. _But-_  
  
 _~Come, let us go now. It will be a delight.~_  
  
The child patiently set the datapad aside and wiped his forearm across his face. He was drooling uncontrollably, and found it harder and harder to think straight. Vega balled his fist and bit it, trying to stay focused.  
  
It didn’t work. And another Zoid died that night.


	11. Chapter 11

The Shadow Fox was first to pick up on the second Geno Saurer.

It was kilometers off, much closer to the actual Mackaray base. The Fox intercepted its communications: Koga was looking to report in to Fuma, though his inability to check in was becoming eclipsed by the frustration of being unable to contact her at all.

Frustration, not concern. Good.

With the same smooth coordination as before, the Fox and Sniper both cut silently through the foliage, making their way closer. Reaching an unspoken threshold they again split, Naomi going for a vantage, as Brad surveyed the situation directly.

Nearer Mt. Iselina, the terrain subtly changed. Though still shrouded by dense forests, the mountain slopes gave way to steeper edges and inclines. Stands of trees ended suddenly in cliffs. Many simpler Zoids would've found the terrain unnavigable.

Geno Saurers weren't simpler Zoids. Neither was the Shadow Fox.

"I still can't get ahold of Fuma," Koga sighed into the comm. "This shit's going to take forever."

"Strange. Almost like these arrays were installed for a reason." Came Ehga's bored and sarcastic reply. "Comms are basically shot out here without them, and without Satellites. She'll be back soon. Just finish that section, it won't take long."

"Says the lazy bitch who gets to be warm in the Whale King." Koga needled, chuckling. The two teammates continued their idle banter for a while, before falling silent again.

It wasn't so straightforward this time. The best vantages for the Gun Sniper were now above the treeline, making them abysmal choices in the glaring midday sun. Naomi sat uneasily in her crouched Sniper, waiting.

Ambient sat hunkered on the Shadow Fox's back. Largely obscured by the shadow of its vulcan-gun mount. It shared the Zoid's regard of the distance-obscured Geno Saurer.

[ _Scary.__ ] The Zoid whispered to Ambient.

 _~Nah. Fine lass, just a little upset. Genos donnae like th'cold.~_ The Organoid watched the Geno Saurer root through dense underbrush, the mats and tangles of foliage almost nothing to the beast.

These powerful Zoids were incomplete reflections of Ambient's original Zoid companion, a fact which the Organoid relayed like an idle curio to the Shadow Fox. The Fox found this interesting and wanted to know more, but-

The Geno Saurer glanced.

Ambient's regard had become almost a beckon, its stare hazing into wistful recollection. That stopped abruptly when Ambient registered the mental contact.

The Saurer's notice sunk into the Organoid like teeth, and Ambient sputtered at the inadvertent betrayal of its attention - and position.

 _~Oh,_ _fuck_ _me.~_

This wouldn't do at all.

Ambient realized it needed to both go find and address the remaining Geno Saurer, before the other Zoid could be alerted. If it were made aware of the Organoid, any stealthy approach would be impossible.

Though far and few between, there were in fact downsides to Organoids.

_~Tod, go, now. Lad; back in a bit.~_

Ambient leapt from the Fox and vanished in a flash of red.

The Fox reflected serious concern with the command, but Brad saw the Geno's gaze and body shift and knew it was too late for anything else. The man grit his teeth and shoved the steering column forward, the Shadow Fox obliging and swiftly tearing off through the trees.

The Zoid's every movement was the end product of precise calculation, armor slipping within inches of every trunk - until the Shadow Fox exploded into the small clearing, claws searing bright. Surprised, Koga reacted and the Geno Saurer took a step to the side-

The Saurer's talons bit down on a ledge. Koga's eyes snapped in alarm towards the drop.

The Geno Saurer faced the Fox, and-

Two strike laser claws made contact with a scream of metal. One set of claws sheared the side of the Saurer's neck, and the other connected with its shoulder. The Fox threw its weight into the lunge - it knew what it was doing.

Brad _didn't_ know what it was doing, was late to the plan, and reeled as he saw the ground beneath them disappear. The Shadow Fox's CPU blazed with calculation as it upended, turning its body _just so_ -

They plunged, struck the side of the cliff, rolled and tangled mid-air. After an alarming span of free-fall both Zoids landed hard on the rocks and snow below, a coarse rain of rock and debris peppering after them. The Fox ultimately remained on top, the painful brunt of the landing jolting straight to shrieking stabilizers and joints.

Silence settled after a few moments, broken only by the clacks of residual falling rock.

Brad caught his breath.

The enraged Geno Saurer twitched then thrashed beneath, its jaws surging upwards to seize the Fox by the neck. It threw the smaller Zoid off, the Fox twisting mid-air and managing an intact landing. Brad whipped its gatling to bear and opened fire.

Through the plumes of dust and smoke the Geno Saurer's cabled talon flashed, hooking into the Fox's leg and ripping the smaller Zoid down. Koga recognized the Shadow Fox.

" _You?! Fuck you, man._ "

Brad lifted his eyes but the Fox didn't move its head, so as not to betray the skulking Gun Sniper above. Without the advantage of complete surprise, this might be a little more difficult.

"Fuck you too," Brad replied, bucking the Fox out of the cable-claw's grip. The smaller Zoid's digital growl clashed harshly with the Saurer's deep hiss.

Brad felt the Fox acknowledge something he didn't understand. The Zoid shifted its gatling and blasted what seemed to be an arbitrary location on the ground. The alert Geno Saurer's head and shoulders hunched forward, as it shifted to stare-

 _Crack_. A sniper's bullet right to the back of the Geno Saurer's head, bursting out one side of its fanged face. It shrieked in pain and surprise, whirling-

 _Crack_. Another explosion ripped through the side of the Saurer's neck. It stumbled, shrieked, tried to remain standing-

 _Crack_. A final, well-aimed shot to the Zoid's torso dropped it.

The Shadow Fox wagged its tail, looking up at the Gun Sniper through the curling smoke.

"Nice." Brad said into the comms.

"Don't _nice_ me," Naomi snapped. "What the hell was that?!"

"A change of plans." Brad replied, keeping an eye on the Geno Saurer's cockpit hatch. He turned his wrist and sunk the steering unit's triggers, intending to light up the Geno Saurer's cockpit with a brutal strip of laser vulcan fire.

But the Fox resisted. _Not defensive. Against the rules_.

"The rules don't fucking matter here, Fox." Brad growled, irritated.

It didn't agree. This was a battle; the rules always mattered.

Brad impatiently side-eyed a console. "Fox. You're not stupid. We didn't come here to win."

The Fox rumbled. It wasn't stupid, no. But the rules between humans weren't really the issue. It simply knew what was expected of it on any given battlefield, and what abstract social contracts it and other Zoids were expected to uphold.

You did: work together. You didn't: fire on cockpits. Unless threat to life or limb was involved… but, they weren't right now. The other Zoid had been disabled.

The rules, what could it do.

Brad shook the steering column once in frustration, and sighed. He undid his harness, drew his revolver, and quickly slipped out of the cockpit to the ground. At a dead run, he quickly covered about half the distance to the downed Saurer - before something twinged in his mind.

He glanced just in time to have silver flash down, skipping off of his thick jacket.

A blade. Koga stood, poised with two daggers, scowling at Brad. The two nimbly ducked back from one another.

Brad eyed the other man and shook his head, loosely aiming his gun and firing off several shots. Koga was quick to dip aside, but two of the shots ripped across his bicep, flecking fabric and blood.

Koga sucked in a breath and darted aside. He threw down both blades and leapt forward again, this time with more precision. In a single, smooth move he seized the revolver's barrel in one hand and Brad's arm in the other. He twisted to one side and snapped the gun out of Brad's one-handed grip, catching it.

The Backdraft pilot sneered, skillfully flipped the gun and pointed it at Brad's face.

One of these men had grown up scrapping on the streets. The other was highly trained in hand-to-hand combat.

It didn't matter, because the woman above had a sniper rifle.

 _Crack_.

Less mighty than the Gun Sniper's rifle, but no less air-shattering. The sound and Koga dropping happened almost simultaneously.

Brad tore an adrenaline-fueled distance back; it took him several seconds to register what'd occurred. Looking up, he saw nothing. But looking back down… he watched the man below shudder on his back in a rapidly-growing pool of blood.

Koga went slack and stopped moving after several seconds.

Brad stood there silent, his every exhale a small cloud in the cold air.

* * *

From atop the Liger Zero, Zero silently watched One and Vega.

They were playing.

 _Playing_.

Zero hadn't thought One was capable of such apparent frivolity.

But the two were definitely playing. One was - with great restraint, and very gently - wrestling with the boy, mouthing him and letting Vega clamber onto it at will. An arched neck, bunched haunches, a lightly waving tail. Stiff mimicry of a juvenile Organoid at play.

The white Organoid gave a small snort.

Zero and One had no natural youth or maturation period to speak of. They'd been brought into existence as adults of their kind. Though they were born atypically, beyond their increased power, lack of a Colony and unusual bondmate situation... they weren't that much different from any other Organoid.

If anything, Zero and One could themselves be considered of the same 'Colony.' Not that Zero really wanted to relate itself to One. And while it did want the black Organoid to lighten up… it found One's current childish antics strange and unbecoming.

Vega seemed to be having fun though.

It was good to see a true positivity blossoming in the two's relationship. However willing the participants, the chains of a true bond had every potential to be a stranglehold. Especially if brought into being by unbalanced psychological - and _physiological_ \- demands.

Still.

It was odd to see One so playful. Content, almost.

What had changed?

Vega and One stopped when Jaime briefly entered the hangar to get something - then resumed as soon he'd uncomfortably shuffled off. No one could long deal with Vega and One's alien regard as a unit. Even Sara had found herself quickly unsettled by it.

The two grew tired after a while, and nestled into a dark, blanket-filled corner they'd set up, for a nap. There were no schedules to adhere to, no timelines, nowhere to be. Zero stretched a leg and one wing lazily; it certainly was on board with the idea of a nap.

As it settled, One finally acknowledged Zero's observation with a glance.

The Organoids glared at one another with a guarded silence, One gently grooming Vega's hair as it did so.

There was no quarrel. There was no reason for it now. They simply didn't like each other.

The dull afternoon heat, the hangar's blissful shade. The comfort of silence and safety. They all culminated in drowsiness, and One drifted off, head resting protectively across Vega's back.

As was its growing habit, Zero mentally reached out to Bit and stroked the blonde's cheek before it too went to sleep.

From elsewhere in the base, at the sensation Bit absently looked up from a datapad he'd been reading. To never be alone was quite an incredible feeling, and one that Bit now gladly clung to.

But like almost everything, it had downsides.

Bit still couldn't shake the occasional, unbidden imagery of the horrifying Zoidian apocalypse. Couldn't shake the idea that the Organoid had made some kind of mistake, choosing him.

He'd done nothing to deserve such joy and intimacy with anything. Nevermind not one, but _two_ amazing Zoids.

With significant guilt, Bit glanced in the direction of the dead Berserk Fury.

Vega'd not really said that much about it. But the child's well-crafted veil of civility only did so much to hide the seething jealousy in his eyes.

And Brad. Bit thought about his former teammate, thought about how he wouldn't simply let Zero _help him_. Thought about how anxiety-inducing the strange red Organoid now with the man was.

That shoddy beast's green optics were, put succinctly, evil. Its voice and demeanor were thick with contempt; it made absolutely no secret of how much it hated people.

Bit couldn't comprehend how Brad was okay with that. But Zero had explained that Organoids could choose how they spoke - to individuals selectively, or in wider broadcast. They could also fork their output in a way likely to be perceived differently by each listener.

Bit didn't like that at all. He had trouble seeing that ability as anything but a means of deception. Zero likewise had a hard time with Bit's perspective, trying to explain that back when Organoids were numerous, such behavior wasn't just courteous, it was necessary. Telepathic din was a real problem. Well... had been.

And that reminder served only to dredge up the horrors of the Zoidians' end again.

Bit's breath caught every time he remembered it. Blank, dark optics and glazed eyes staring from everywhere. Bodies. _Death_.

What made it worse, was that per Zero's relayed memories, Zoidians looked just like people. Humans.

Were they humans? Zero didn't know. It didn't think so, and tried to explain the differences as it understood them. Tried to explain that there were clearly hybrids, akin to when Organoids of distant Colonies bred together.

So for that to happen, they must be different. But not too different.

Bit didn't like that either. Nothing about Brad, Vega, or Vega's mother seemed any different from anyone else, but Zero resolutely insisted they were. How did Zero know this? How could it _tell_?

The answer was that it simply could. But couldn't articulate what made it think that, or why.

Bit's change in demeanor caught Steve's eye.

Seated across the room, the older Toros quietly watched the blonde Warrior set down his datapad and cycle through several subtle - but pained - expressions.

"You all right?" He asked after a few moments.

"Fine, Doc." Bit replied, dropping his gaze. "Just fine."

He clearly wasn't. His throat worked, and his eyes picked at an empty spot on the table.

Steve inhaled deeply and stood, walking over.

A brief upward flick of green eyes, and the two men's stares met.

It was the first time Steve had taken a good look at Bit in a while. There were differences both subtle and staggering: this was still quite clearly Bit Cloud. But his eyes? They were almost the eyes of a complete stranger. They roiled with an indescribable depth and intensity, borderline threatening.

"Zero." Bit offered in explanation, though that explained little and only made Toros's face wrinkle.

The blonde looked aside. It felt awkward to elaborate, but he tried to.

"He's... part of me. And I'm part of him. That's just the way it is now."

Steve clearly didn't understand. But he nodded anyways.

"These Organoids are something else, eh?"

An understatement. Bit looked back at Toros, somewhat wearily.

"Doc. I know you've been on the fence about all this. But I don't think we should tell the ZBC about... them. I don't think we should tell anyone."

"Agreed." Steve had already discussed the matter with Leon and Jaime, but for some reason left out the most relevant stakeholder. Perhaps it was the whole _property_ angle… which seemed inappropriate for creatures clearly more sapient than Zoids. "But we need to be cautious. And it's up to you to keep Zero out of sight."

Easier said than done. "No, it's up to _Zero_ to keep Zero out of sight. I can't just tell him what to do."

The notion of these creatures courting disobedience raised Steve's hackles. Not so much on account of Zero, but One. The black Organoid was unsettling at the best of times. The mere thought that Vega had no real reins on it was terrifying, and he didn't want to consider it.

But come to think of it, Bit admitting he had little control over a 9-foot-tall beast with opinions and a bladed face wasn't very comforting either.

"Just... be careful. We can't fight the ZBC. Or ZBGF."

Green eyes flicked with thought for several seconds. Bit's brows dropped, and he met the older man's eyes again, intently.

"Can't, or won't?"

Unseen and to one side, Sara had been standing. Silent, listening.

She grinned.

* * *

The Gun Sniper arrived quickly.

Naomi tore out of her cockpit and over to Brad, hands and arms visibly shaking as she seized his sleeves and shook him. "What the _fuck_ were you doing?!"

Brad blinked at her. "I- I didn't think th-"

"Just stop. Right there. You didn't think." She speared him with a pointed finger. "We can't - _you_ can't - we aren't fucking around here!"

Brad looked down at her pointing hand, watching it shake. He belatedly realized she'd likely not shot a person before. Well, no - he knew she'd shot _at_ (and as an occasional result, shot) plenty of people - well-aimed shots towards extremities. Usually to prove a point.

But not like this. Not to outright kill.

He pulled his arms back enough to wrest his coat from her grip, before firmly taking her hands in his.

They stood silent in the cold until Naomi calmed. Once she did, her eyes flicked up and furiously met Brad's.

"I get it." She said through her teeth. "But I… fuck. I can't believ- _fuck_."

She pushed away and turned her back, shaking her head.

Brad wasn't sure what to say.

He glanced up at both Zoids in turn. They looked back at him curiously, but weren't helpful. He didn't see Ambient.

"I'm sorry." He finally said.

Naomi remained silent for a few more moments, then shook her head again.

"No. Don't be. It's not your fault. We didn't have a choice." She paused to clear her throat, but her voice stayed thick with emotion. "We never had a choice in their bullshit."

Yet all Brad could remember in that instant were two very simple questions and how he'd answered them.

Do you want power?

Do you want control?

He'd had a choice.

And he refused to believe it was the wrong one.


	12. Chapter 12

It hadn’t taken long for Ambient to locate the third Geno Saurer. Their scent was already a familiar one, and the reminder made them easy to track down. Teleporting around was much faster - if not far more strenuous - than more traditional tracking.  
  
Realistically, with enough planning Ambient could’ve taken care of the Fuma Team by itself. 

But that would’ve been far less entertaining, would’ve taken a lot of effort, and besides: it wanted to see what Brad was capable of. 

Because whether or not Ambient would admit it, the creature sorely missed the streamlined bliss of working with a partner, with a Zoid. Organoids were social animals. They weren’t meant to be alone.

Ambient crept after the occupied Zoid, with an increased awareness of the need to mask its presence. Its initial inquiries were gentle: soft whispers, no surprises, so as not to cause alarm, and not cause the Zoid to alert its pilot. 

Was the Saurer being treated well? How had it been? What did it think of its pilot?  
  
The Geno Saurer’s attention piqued vaguely, like the ear of a dog shifting sidelong to listen. 

The voice of an Organoid was generally welcomed by any Zoid that recognized them. And _this_ Organoid? Seemed to be one the Saurer remembered. 

The one watching over the seedling tanks, was it not? It could certainly be trusted.  
  
The Geno Saurer replied idly: it couldn’t complain. But it had been quite bored. These pilots were acceptable, if not mediocre. Other Zoids were very dull company. The world was a strange place. It was hungry.  
  
Ambient agreed and reflected sympathy, sharing a few of its own idle complaints about the state of things. Then quietly let the Geno Saurer in on a little secret.  
  
A pilot he was with was after the Fuma Team - that was the title ofthese acceptable, yet quite mediocre pilots. Obviously, this pilot would have to take out their Zoids to get _to_ them. Nothing against the Saurers, of course.   
  
The Geno Saurer became immediately cross at the notion of a threat, and turned towards the direction it sensed Ambient. 

It chuffed with insult: as if _the Zoids_ were the chaff in this equation?  
  
Negola blinked at the Zoid’s unbidden movement and briefly-unresponsive controls. “Uh.”  
  
Red blazed. Ambient reformed with a cackle, a complete mess of teeth and talons crammed into the cockpit. The Organoid was there for only a split second, seizing Negola by the meaty juncture of his neck and shoulder - before it jolted away again, leaving the cockpit empty.  
  
The Geno Saurer growled, equally annoyed and impressed. 

Freed of direct control, it shook off and stretched, then craned its neck in the direction Ambient had gone.  
  


* * *

  
It was very difficult to act normal, when nothing was normal.

 _She’s watching again_.  
  
Jaime stood in the kitchen, chopping fruit. In his periphery, Sara was indeed watching. Staring.  
  
He didn’t really like her. He couldn’t put his finger on _why_ , and it wasn’t so simple as her unclear status as part of Backdraft. Her eyes assessed, her eyes categorized, her eyes _judged_ . Jaime spent most of his time being as much a part of the background as possible. He didn’t enjoy the limelight. He didn’t want to be noticed. He didn’t-  
  
 _Yes you do. Don’t lie._  
  
He stopped chopping, and stood silent for several seconds.  
  
He really wanted Sara to look away.  
  
“Need any help?” She asked, As would any normal person. Normal guest.  
  
“Nope. I’ve got it.” Jaime scraped the fruit into a bowl, then set the bowl on the kitchen bar. He was fetching a spoon for the bowl, when Leon walked in and helped himself, hands clearly dirty from the hangar.  
  
A brow twitched. Jaime strongly considered slapping Leon with the spoon, but thought better of it. The young Toros wasn’t paying attention anyways, his eyes on a datapad as he sauntered on by. 

“You’re quite patient with everyone.” Sara said.  
  
“Most everyone.” The teen said tersely, expression making clear who was excluded. He finally turned to the woman. “How long are you intending on staying, again?”  
  
Sara shrugged. “We don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Not sure that’s our problem.”  
  
“Steve has been very accommodating.”  
  
Jaime pointedly let his eyes drop from Sara’s face to her breasts. He looked back up after a moment. “Can’t imagine why.”  
  
“Don’t be so shallow. You’re smarter than that.”  
  
The Eagle chuckled, derisively. Jaime rounded it into a cough. He kept a comment about Steve to himself, shaking his head as he opened the nearby freezer. Its contents were sparse.  
  
“I don’t suppose you want to pitch in for… you know. Food.” 

Jaime was the main victim of One’s foray into the pantry, having had to sort through and clean up the mess. Leon claimed to have helped, but had mainly stood there scowling, griping, and shoving cookies into his mouth.

Not that he blamed Leon for being angry. As the quiet, smart, and ever-present keeper of the base, Jaime always silently showed up to help people too proud to otherwise ask for it. Jaime never got _why_ Warriors felt the need to be so macho around their own Teammates. But he did understand why Leon was so sullen about his injuries.  
  
The man was healing up nicely now, but those first few days after the Fury’s attack on the base had been brutal.

Growing up, Jaime had always viewed Leon as a sort of older brother, both fortress and family that he and Leena could hide behind. He’d never seen the man falter. Never seen any cracks in the walls.  
  
So Jaime’s first sign that things were very _not normal_ \- besides the swath of base missing - was that he’d walked into the medbay late one night, and found Leon there alone. Quietly sobbing.   
  
_And yet you still waited a few days to even ask him if he was okay. Wuss._  
  
Jaime’s eyelids fluttered shut. He shut the freezer, at length.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Sara replied, then arched a brow. “You... have a gift, don’t you?”  
  
Jaime’s blood iced, and it wasn’t because of the leftover air from the freezer. He glanced.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“You heard me.” Sara picked up a piece of fruit from the bowl, and smiled disarmingly. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re Oscar Hemeros’s son, yes?”  
  
Jaime’s throat worked. He wasn't comfortable. This was the opposite of blending in with the background. “Yes.”  
  
“He worked with the Backdraft Organization for a little while.”  
  
“ _No he didn’t!_ ” Jaime surprised even himself with his indignation. Mentally he recoiled, brain ticking through everything he knew about his father. Enlisting in Backdraft didn’t strike him as the kind of thing his father would do, but…  
  
 _You don’t_ _know_ _. You should ask him_ . _Who knows. Backdraft might be_ _fun_ _._ _  
__  
_Fuck.  
  
Jaime’s eyes darted nervously, and he shook his head, hastening to the other side of the kitchen. He had nothing to do there, but he pulled open a drawer and pretended he did.  
  
Sara watched quietly, finally eating the piece of fruit. She chuckled.  
  
“Backdraft’s not a bogeyman, dear. And the fraction I’m sure you’ve encountered is, ah… not its best showing.”  
  
Jaime kept shaking his head. He didn’t respond.  
  
Sara moved closer, and Jaime couldn’t help but look at her. Even though she was an older woman, she was quite attractive - and had almost an enforced magnetism about her. Jaime _understood_ it though, as it fell strictly along the same lines that every bad idea of the Wild Eagle’s did: extremely appealing. Clearly dangerous.  
  
Jaime turned his head away, but the Eagle watched Sara. She stood about a foot away for a few moments, silent.  
  
The teen said nothing.  
  
At length, Sara spoke. “Everyone’s different, you know. But some people… are better.”  
  
A blink. Jaime finally both turned to and looked at the woman, brow wrinkling.  
  
Sara grinned.

* * *

  
Brad stood silently, watching Naomi return to her Gun Sniper.   
  
With no warning, Ambient showed up, a red flash that reformed right beside him.

In its jaws the Organoid held a completely-bewildered Negola. It let the hapless pilot dangle for a painful moment, before slamming the man into the ground. Hard.  
  
To his credit, Negola quickly rolled to one side and then to all fours, scrambling to get up - but Ambient planted a hindtalon across the man’s back and shoved him flat. The red Organoid’s tail twitched with merriment as it looked at Brad.   
  
_~Present for ye. All the’h fun. None of the’h trouble.~_ _  
__  
_Brad, not expecting any of this, just blinked.  
  
Negola tried to get up, gathering himself and hefting against Ambient’s weight. Nothing happened. After a few mighty but futile tries, he lifted his head and glanced between Brad and the Organoid. 

He’d barely finished registering the two before he noticed the blood on the ground beside him - blood that he’d been tossed into, blood that was still a little warm, and soaking into his sleeve. He followed it with his eyes, and saw Koga’s body.  
  
“Hh _hhh_ - _?! What the fuck?!_ ”  
  
Negola started to panic and tried to move away, but the crush of Ambient’s weight ensured he went nowhere. Reward for his efforts came only in the form of rocky ground gouging his exposed neck and face.  
  
“I don’t find this fun.” Brad said, finally responding to Ambient. “More… necessary.”  
  
 _~Mm.~_ The Organoid raised a brow. ~ _Fun’s necessary.~_  
  
At the commotion, Naomi had stopped and turned to stare.  
  
Negola had gone from the comfortable, relatively-warm cockpit of a Zoid to this situation in about thirty seconds. He could hardly catch a breath, and his clearly-dead teammate lay beside him. The man made bewildered eye-contact with Naomi, brimming with an animal panic.  
  
“ _HELP ME!_ ”  
  
Naomi held the eye-contact for several seconds. 

Then she looked away and resumed walking to her Zoid.  
  
Once she’d turned, Brad lifted his revolver and pointed it at the man’s head.  
  
“ _Fuck_ man!” Negola shouted, still fighting to get up. “ _Fuck!_ What the fuck’s wrong with you!”  
  
Brad’s expression was one of idle disgust. Like he didn’t want to bother speaking, but was going to anyways. “Did you know what Backdraft was doing? When you came after me and Naomi?”  
  
“ _Get this thing off me!_ ”  
  
“Answer the question.”  
  
 _“Fuma only told us we were after the other Blitz guy. You! I didn’t_ -” Negola ran out of breath to speak with, and gaped for air.  
  
Ambient looked idly at Brad for direction. Receiving none, it casually leaned further, and things began to give under the beast’s weight.

Negola jerked with pain, back and chest spasming for air. Gloved hands taloned into the ice and dirt, frantically gouging the ground. 

Brad recalled his own desperate rage at being ambushed, _attacked_ in what should’ve been his dark and peaceful forest. Recalled his powerlessness as the Saurers threatened to crush the Gun Sniper’s cockpit. Recalled all what came after.  
  
His jaw clenched, his teeth grit. Furious. 

Brad glanced up at Ambient and welled with a strange, fierce pride that such a powerful equalizer was on _his_ side, with _him_ , against these thoughtless and callous _cockroaches_ that’d _dared_ make an attempt on Naomi’s, on his, on the _Fluegel Team’s_ life.  
  
And it was in that moment that Brad truly registered Ambient’s potential. Lethal and otherwise. 

He studied the Organoid for a few seconds, then put his gun away.  
  
Ambient smirked in-mind, optics fixed on Brad and tail-tip twitching with delight.  
  
The command went unspoken, as the desire was mutual.  
  
 _Kill him.  
  
_

* * *

_  
~We can still battle.~_

‘Can’ wasn’t the question. Or the issue.  
  
Bit sat in the hangar on the Liger Zero’s paw, Zero seated sphinxlike alongside. Given proximity and idle time, the white Organoid would invariably start grooming Bit’s hair… which it was presently doing.  
  
“Not doubting that, bud. Just. I dunno.”  
  
 _~You find it trivial?~_ _  
_  
That wasn’t the right word. Bit shook his head.

“No. More… weird. Inappropriate.”  
  
 _~As with any behavior, context and boundary define and describe it. No, fighting for survival is not the same as participating in a game. But neither does the existence of the former invalidate the latter.~_ Zero paused to broadly yawn. _~Zoids are territorial. Contests are natural.~_  
  
Bit made a noncommittal sound, shifting his regard to Vega across the way. The child and his Organoid were fast asleep in the dark little corner they’d made, a comfortably-sprawled mess of limbs. Vega’d taken to a more nocturnal schedule, but this didn’t worry or even register with Bit. He lumped it in alongside the myriad of ways he and Vega seemed to be opposites. Which made sense.

Zero shared the idle regard.  
  
~ _We are not true opposites so much as… differing opinions.~_ _  
__  
_Experiencing any of Zero’s recollections was quite strange. Its oldest memories, its memories of Zoidian times, were as clear as they were terrifying. Bit knew that the creature’d been born into literal chaos, but having a visceral concept of what _that meant_ …

The blonde’s stomach lurched with panic, then plunged with dread.

A stray memory of standing over a cluster of children, wings spread to shield them from falling debris. There was nowhere to go. There was nothing to do. The air was toxic, and Organoids simply needed much less of it. Everywhere he’d gone was like this. _Everywhere-_  
  
Bit shut his eyes tightly. 

Zero unfortunately didn’t have many milder memories to temper those with. 

Bit wanted to better understand the creature, to know how it’d ended up here of all places. But the closer to the present any musing crept, the more fragmented, incoherent, and outright broken everything became. 

The same was true of the Liger Zero, who had many strong memories… with little to no detail.  
  
Something had obviously happened to them, but it was impossible to tell what. Neither Zero nor the Liger seemed terribly bothered by it though. Bit supposed, after everything he knew Zero had been through, it couldn’t have been much worse than the rest.  
  
It was quite the no-brainer that the white Organoid just wanted to lay around and sunbathe.   
  
Speaking of naps.  
  
Bit folded his arms behind his head and reclined onto the Liger’s leg. Zero idly rolled onto its back, massive body sagging comfortably over the Liger’s claws.  
  


* * *

  
The dim dance of firelight illuminated the small camp.  
  
Naomi hadn’t eaten much of her food, but she tightly held a cup of coffee.  
  
Her eyes were on the red Organoid across the way from her.  
  
Ambient lay on its side, warming its back with the fire. With its long neck flexed back and head turned her way, Ambient watched Naomi in return.  
  
Despite the cold, Brad dozed nearby, leaning on one of the Shadow Fox’s barely-active claws. The faintest amount of power to the laser claw made it not a weapon, but a very warm, welcoming surface in the frigid night. The surrounding snow being melted was an added bonus. 

Naomi’s throat worked uneasily as she watched Ambient. Everything about the creature exuded _threat_. It was tolerable, in her apartment. 

It was terrifying, here.  
  
Naomi kept glancing at Brad, agitated. How could he just _sleep_ around this damn thing? It obviously didn’t bother him, and sure, she’d never seen the Organoid menace him in any way. But… how could she ignore her gut instinct?   
  
She stayed painfully still, painfully alert, genuinely torn between her trust of Brad, and fear of Ambient.  
  
Brad and Naomi’s relationship had begun on purely carnal grounds. A hot and confident man, with a literal huge gun and skills to go with it? Naomi wanted, and Naomi got. 

Single Zoid Warriors were notoriously promiscuous: Brad and Naomi both were no exception. There weren’t many downsides to casual sex; the population of Zi had long escaped the problems with it that’d so blighted their distant terran ancestors.  
  
After several chance encounters that’d stopped seeming like chance, the two recognized they had a definite chemistry. But neither expected any serious or lasting relationship - not just with one another, but in general. 

Then Leon had showed up and joined the Fluegel Team.  
  
Naomi wanted, and Naomi got.  
  
Naomi blinked away from her thoughts and focused again on Ambient.  
  
The Organoid rumbled, the sound more felt than heard.  
  
Naomi shook her head. “I have no idea what he hears. But I don’t understand you.”

A soft chuff.  
  
“You just look way too excited to… to _fuck people up_ . It’s fucking scary, understand?”  
  
Ambient considered, and shrugged its shoulders vaguely. Something visible, universal.  
  
“What, you don’t think that’s a big deal?”  
  
Ambient shook its head.  
  
“And... you understand me just fine.”  
  
A nod.

Naomi sighed, and took a few deeply unpleasant gulps of coffee that’d gone cold. She focused an unsettled stare into the dark mug.  
  
When she looked back at Ambient, she startled badly to realize it was no longer laying where it had been.

Before she could gather wit enough to fully look around, the creature flopped to the ground beside her, neck and upper body rolling to pin her legs and long skirt.  
  
Her panic rose exponentially, but she stopped short of any noise. Ambient was extremely warm, and had pressed close but not _too_ close.  
  
Naomi did not like this situation one bit. But she did like how warm this stupid thing was.  
  
Ambient rolled its head and presented the segmented underside of its neck and jaw to her, rumbling again.  
  
She threw another glance at Brad, debating whether or not to scream.  
  
One dim green optic regarded her. The Organoid reached a foreclaw up to its neck and scratched a few times, pointedly staring.  
  
“You... want me to scratch your neck. In exchange for… you being warm.”  
  
Ambient’s jaws parted in a very poor imitation of a grin. 

Against her better judgment, Naomi set the mug down and hesitantly scratched the Organoid’s neck plating.  
  
Nothing bad happened. The creature seemed to enjoy it. 

She scratched harder, a little intrigued and slightly disturbed that she could feel the contrasting textures of its neck even through her gloves.  
  
After a few minutes she glanced, and noticed Brad watching her. 

She stopped and bunched both hands to her chest. But the man was smiling.  
  
“See, he likes you.”  
  
Naomi smiled a little back.


	13. Chapter 13

Brad awoke, warm and comfortable in the Shadow Fox’s cockpit. Naomi lay on top of him, asleep. 

He watched her quietly, loath to move or disturb her in any way.

_~Moo’rnin’ lad,~_ Ambient said from somewhere outside. _~Snowed again, but nae too much. Took care’a the trash. Ah’ve been thinking. Y’mentioned there were four members of this group, but onl’eh three attacked you. All th’Genos are accounted for. What of this fourth?~_ _  
_

Brad’s eyes flicked, thoughtfully. Yes - the Fuma Team did have four members, and he only recalled being attacked by three. He also remembered Steve talking about only three Geno Saurers, from the Royal Cup.  
  
Obviously, one of the Fuma Team hadn’t been involved. At least not directly.

Brad recalled the comm conversation that the Fox overheard. He glanced in Ambient’s direction and opened his mouth to reply, but paused.  
  
Naomi. Sleeping. Right. 

She didn’t care for these half-conversations anyways. 

Brad squinted with the effort of responding silently. _The other guy’s operating out of a Whale King somewhere around here._ _  
_

~ _Ah. Shouldnae be too difficult t’find.~_ _  
_ _  
_Brad agreed, lay his head back, and closed his eyes. _Maybe we can take care of things, and Naomi can head home. I’ll ask her when she wakes up._  
  
There wasn’t much time pressure. Sure, it’d be wise to wrap things up sooner rather than later. But most of what needed to be done, was done.  
  
Ambient snorted. _~Ah’ll never understand why y’let a female lead your clan.~_ _  
_ _  
_Brad cracked an eye. _It’s- it’s her Team. It’s her apartment. I’m just on it. In it._

_~Team’s a word foo’r humans’ idiotic sports. Y’live in the same place, you’ve got th’dick, you’re mates. It’s your clan.~_ Ambient glanced, in-mind. _~She pregnant yet?~_

Both of the man’s eyes opened, and he blinked. Several times. 

_She- what? No. She doesn’t want kids._   
  
_~And?~_

The Organoid’s implication prompted a squint. _And_ _that’s a complete sentence. I don’t want any either._

Ambient tilted its head, but quickly acquiesced. _~Hmh. With as much as you two fuck, I assumed you wanted t’breed.~_ A laugh. _~Ah mean. Works for me. Nae like we need anymore of y’damn humans runnin’ around.~_ _  
__  
_It felt a little off to agree. But Brad’s long-standing affair with solitude had him nod idle agreement. _  
__  
__~Ah’d probably eat it anyways.~_ Ambient added, thoughtfully.  
  
Brad stared into empty space for a long moment. 

He somehow didn’t doubt this.

* * *

Sweat streaming down his arms and jawline. The uncomfortable slip of his hands in his gloves. Or- wait. That was all blood, not sweat. He’d never seen so much of his own blood before.  
  
The damaged omnisensor in the Liger Zero’s cockpit left him feeling blinded on one side. He kept wanting to juke the controls that way, to ensure any movement would likely cross his field of view. 

It was almost impossible to concentrate. He was light-headed. He wanted to vomit.  
  
The whine of powerful servos, a hollow whiff, a crash. The sound of metal slicing air then slamming shut - jaws and fangs, as designed - was horrifying, _so close_. He could feel the shuddering vibrations of every slam, the thin shriek of the Berserk Fury’s massive teeth barely touching. How many times had he managed to avoid it? 

He’d stopped thinking about it. Because he didn’t have the bandwidth to. Because it didn’t matter. A single mistake would end everything. His life depended on perfection. 

He panicked. He didn’t remember panicking.  
  
What if he’d fucked up? Would there be time to regret it? Would there be time to feel fear? Would it hurt?  
  
He wasn’t sure; this wasn’t a memory. But it certainly felt like one, as the shriek of buckling structure and glass were the last things he could recall before-  
  
Bit bolted upright in a cold sweat, shivering in the morning air.  
  
Zero’s massive body lay curled around the blonde like a fence. Its optics dimly lit, and it turned its head towards him.

_~A dream.~_ The Organoid said softly. _~It is alright. You are safe.~_  
  
Bit calmed, but adrenaline kept him trembling. 

He’d off-and-on had nightmares about the fight with the Fury. Alone, they were manageable, and perhaps to be expected. But in conjunction with the random memories of Zero’s...

The massive Organoid leaned close and darted its tongue gently across Bit’s neck and shoulders. It felt weird, but nice. The blonde relaxed into it, quite alright with Zero helping dissipate his anxieties.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see Polta standing not far off. Silent but distinct in the early dawn’s light, the lanky man was watching, curious. 

He looked away at Bit’s notice.  
  
Bit was still working through the finer details of interacting with Zero. Though there was no friction to speak of between him and the Organoid, he couldn’t help but feel an occasional awkwardness as far as the many pairs of prying eyes in the base went.  
  
After all, Zero wasn’t One, and Bit wasn’t Vega. Everyone wanted a handle on this new situation, and Bit was the safe go-to. 

He both resented and was glad for this. Which made little sense... but what had made sense lately?   
  
Bit glared at Polta. He did know he wasn’t okay with _this_ man’s regard. The Blitz Team had a number of unpleasant run-ins with Backdraft under their belt: Polta had been at the fore more than once.  
  
How Steve could brush that all aside and be so trusting, Bit wasn’t sure. But Zero glanced at Polta and didn’t seem bothered, so Bit cooled off.  
  
He stood and slipped an overshirt on, green eyes fixed on the man across the way.  
  
Polta finally looked at Bit again. 

“I’m not here to rob the place.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” Bit didn’t bother with subtlety. “Don’t really trust you, dude. If Doc says you can stay, I guess you can. But don’t touch anything.” He forked fingers between his eyes and the other man.

Polta showed his palms, and shook his head. “Kid. When someone tries to put a bullet in your head, it changes who you work for. Real fast.”

Bit stared for a few seconds. “Backdraft tried to kill you?”  
  
A nod. The man squinted into the dim dawn sky with suspicion. “Unfortunately. I liked working with… ah, the _ambitious_.” Fear stiffened people, and Polta certainly stiffened as he rocked in his boots. “Not a gamble that played out in my favor.”  
  
Bit continued to stare, skeptical. But he couldn’t ignore the edge that Zero’s added perception provided: it wasn’t an act. The other man really was afraid. 

“Why would you ever choose to join Backdraft to begin with? What kind of idiot works for people who’ll shoot you?”  
  
“Everyone needs a job.” Polta said. “And, you know. Things aren’t normally so… bad.”  
  
“No, I don’t know. And I don’t really care to, to be honest. Backdraft ruins people’s lives and livelihoods.”  
  
Polta set his jaw and studied the floor. “As does the ZBC and the ZBGF. And they’re far worse.” His eyes flicked up. “Don’t see anyone complaining about that.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
Polta mimed a familiar motion, one of brandishing Zoid Gear. “A lot of pilots in Backdraft are banned from registrable activities. Blacklisted.”  
  
Bit’s brows furrowed. “Nobody gets blacklisted lightly. That’s the final penalty for serious, repeat offenses. Zoids can be dangerous.”  
  
The lanky man chuckled, sighed, and idly rubbed one temple. 

“Business as usual out here, I see.”   
  


* * *

Dark quarters and tangled sheets.  
  
What’d begun the previous night as a few drinks, had escalated significantly - by design. 

It was easy to bed someone obviously responding to your presence. She’d expected mediocrity and the typical insight intimacy provided. Expected to sleep in a more comfortable bed than the guest quarters, mainly.

Sara knew her strengths in this realm and used them with skill, just as she had in Backdraft for many years. Though she’d found the Organization’s brutal politics relatively simple to navigate over time, the game became simpler and simpler still when you could see everyone’s hand.  
  
And that was something easily glimpsed in people at their most vulnerable. Whether they were driven by lust, power fantasies, or vague hopes of affection - it didn’t matter. They were all ultimately the same, easily used and easily discarded.  
  
Alteil was one of the few, and one of the first, to completely shut her down. He was gay.  
  
Sara stared at Steve’s face, silent. 

The man was asleep, bunched-up sheets pulled close to his chest.  
  
She’d been encouraging him, perhaps a bit too much. He hadn’t acted on urges she knew he felt. He was deliberate, gentle, and just as careful and caring as his attitude towards her elsewhere had implied.  
  
It couldn’t be this easy.  
  
Sara had long ago discovered she had a certain way with people: if she knew enough about them, and could hold their attention, with effort she could make _suggestions._

Suggestions that rarely stayed suggestions.  
  
But Steve? He didn’t resist her. He didn’t even try. He could be nudged in just about any direction, and made to consider most things. Sara had never encountered anyone so blatantly weak like this before, and wasn’t sure what to make of it.  
  
No… weak was the wrong word. Tired. The man felt tired. Resigned. 

Not what she expected, and certainly not what she assumed would underlie the manager of a Team that’d won the Royal Cup a scant few months ago.  
  
She’d set out to dominate, but there was nothing here to conquer. Just a lonely, sad, middle-aged man who’d invited her in. As out of place as she felt in the Blitz Team base, was as out of place as she felt in this situation. Sara frowned. 

She did owe Steve gratitude. She wasn’t thankless.  
  
Steve had, in her mind, saved Vega’s life. Hers as well. If not directly, then indirectly - by simply allowing them to stay here, stay hidden. By simply not throwing them out to the ZBGF on that quiet, smoky night. 

He’d done that all on his own, despite the reservations etched on every inch of his face.  
  
Vega would have likely been fine at that point. With that Organoid by his side, Sara felt confident he could stay out of danger. Talking to him more about the creature had only cemented the notion.  
  
But her?  
  
The entire debacle with the Fury was on her. Not just more recently, but the ruinous Royal Cup as well. Her alignment of the Committee had taken ages; with their active distrust, it would be impossible to set up again. Worse: she’d already been given her second chance, and managed only to make grievous wounds deeper.  
  
It wasn’t her fault, nor was it her intent. And there really wasn’t anything else she could’ve done. But she knew that didn’t matter. 

_She’d_ made people vanish, for less.  
  
Sara shifted to lay on her side with a sigh, her back to Steve. 

Just a few months ago she’d thought everything was under control. Now years of struggle seemed in vain, her own future - and Vega’s - left uncertain. 

After a few quiet moments, Steve’s hand found her shoulder and gently ran down her arm several times.

Sara closed her eyes.  
  


* * *

_“_ Quit with the bullshit! No one _has_ to join Backdraft!” Bit snapped.

“If they run out of options topside, yeah, they kind of do. At least in bigger cities.” Polta shrugged. “That’s why a lot of recruiting goes on in bars.”  
  
“Cool, cool. Taking advantage of drunk folks down on their luck.” Bit made a motion as if dropping something tiny. “Do you drug ‘em too?”  
  
Polta sighed. “Working with Zoids in any capacity is a skill. One that can take years to develop. It’s valuable. Not something anyone should just be throwing out.”

Bit grated a sigh of his own and glanced at Zero, who still lay silently watching the them. He looked back. “You make it sound like Backdraft takes in lost puppies while the ZBC has it out for people. That’s ridiculous.”  
  
Polta chuckled. And just kept chuckling. 

It got on Bit’s nerves. “You don’t think you might be a little biased, dude? Coming from… however long you were in Backdraft?”  
  
As the sun broke the horizon and began to lighten the sky, Polta drew a pair of dark sunglasses out of a small case and slipped them on. He shook his head, smiling unpleasantly. 

“Nah. I’m actually from what most in the org call the _penumbra_. One parent in Backdraft, and one… not. If there’s ever something that would... _broaden one’s horizons_ , it’s that.” He stared at Bit over the top of his sunglasses. “I’ll take an informed choice over no choice any day.”

Bit squinted. He frowned, then guessed: “Your family had money.”  
  
An idle nod and smile. 

Bit’s frown hardened. “Then you don’t have any room to talk.”

The smile on Polta’s face died. But it was quick to bounce back, vicious.

“Says the poster child for youthful optimism?! Come on, kid.” The smile turned sneer lite. “How many people are gonna see your face on TV and think, ‘I can do that too’, hmm? Ever since the Blitz Team shot up in the rankings, your cute little sob story’s been everywhere.”  
  
Bit just stared.  
  
“Gonna assume it’s a _bit_ edited, though.” Polta clasped and rubbed his hands together. “So, allow me to take a guess. Falloff kid. Grew up in one of the outer villages. Apprenticed with… some stripe of mechanic, probably a modder. Then got into the Jackal trade?”

“Junk dealer.” Came Bit’s stern correction.

Polta raised a brow. “Stealth truck, right? Snuck onto active battlefields?”  
  
Bit glared into the distance, not saying anything. 

Polta put his hands into his pockets and rocked a little, waiting.  
  
“I was taught by a Jackal. I wasn’t one.” Bit said after about a minute of silence. “And he’d never been part of Backdraft or any of that other crap.”  
  
“That he told you about. People tend to not mention things that might get them in trouble.”  
  
Bit threw a challenging look.  
  
“Speaking of… with as strong as your opinions are about Backdraft, have you any intention to share your little- er, pardon, _big_ -advantage?” Polta motioned with his head at Zero. “I think some may consider having mythical creatures on your side cheating.”  
  
 _~An odd assertion from a man too weak to fight with honesty.~_ Zero said, out of nowhere.  
  
Polta startled and staggered back a few steps; he’d not heard the Organoid speak prior. Though dark glasses now hid his eyes, Bit watched the lanky man’s brows sort through a lot. Polta didn’t have a response, quick or otherwise, and just looked away.

Before anything else could be said, both’s attention shifted to the approaching click of heels on the hangar’s shiny concrete floor. Sara. 

Polta turned as she arrived, glad for the distraction. He bowed slightly. “Ma’am.”  
  
Sara nodded and politely gestured dismissal, her attention on Bit. The blonde turned a severe gaze to the woman, still frowning. 

“What.”  
  
“Good morning to you too.”  
  
Bit’s eyes half-lidded. “ _Good morning, Sara. How can I help you today.”_

“Dear.”  
  
Bit tried to hold his dulled expression, but finally cracked a grin. “Really, what’s up?”  
  
“Is it all right if I speak with you for a moment?”

* * *

Sara hadn’t appreciated how massive Zero was until the white Organoid followed Bit into a room with a lower ceiling. She admired the huge beast for a moment, until it met her gaze directly.  
  
It was something like staring into the roiling glow of molten earth: deceptively cooled on its outer edges, but most assuredly burning within. Almost painfully bright to look at, Zero’s optics brimmed with the stark opposite of the void One’s optics held. 

It’d been a second, if that. She looked away, and to Bit.

It made her shudder slightly to see how intently Zero stared out of the blonde’s eyes too. It shouldn’t have surprised her: the same thing sometimes happened with Vega and his Organoid.   
  
“I haven’t even had breakfast, Sara.” Bit wasn’t in the mood to deal with much, and certainly not on an empty stomach.. “Can this not wait?”  
  
“Don’t worry, I just have a question.” The woman folded her arms and cocked her head. “Was your Liger Zero ever subject to a full-body M-Scan?”  
  
Green eyes flicked with thought. After a moment, Bit nodded. “A little while ago. Doc took all the Zoids in just before the Royal Cup.” 

His mind continued for him: _back when your biggest problems involved being defeated by Vega in a video game._ A sigh.  
  
“I see. Was there anything unusual?”  
  
Bit shrugged. “Black box they couldn’t scan. Me and Doc tried to get into it. Couldn’t. Jaime didn’t want us to break anything, so...”  
  
Sara nodded, and produced a small datapad. She handed it to Bit. 

“The Berserk Fury had one too.”   
  
Bit took the datapad and looked at the image on it. A black reptilian-looking skull - that looked unmistakably like One. Grasping a Core in its mouth. Bit knew the size of the black box, and raced through the mental math to arrive at a squint.  
  
Sara looked at him expectantly.  
  
“So that’s where they came from.” The muscles in the blonde’s jaw visibly tensed. “And that… wouldn’t be there anymore.”  
  
A slow nod. “And you know who gets all the commercial M-Scan data, correct?”  
  
The ZBC. It was a simple addition to their arsenal of methods used to keep an eye out for illegal mods or other tampering. The black box hadn’t set off anyone’s alarm bells; even the mechanic at the full-service center had guessed it was just a recorder for battle simulators.  
  
Bit closed his eyes and mouth, inhaling through his nose at length. He took a moment to process the variety of potential issues this brought up, none of which he had considered. He doubted Steve had either.  
  
“Great.” The blonde opened his eyes and looked up at Zero. “No more M-Scans for us, I guess.”  
  
Sara gave him a warning look. “If, by chance, the ZBC or ZBGF had happened to get ahold of some of Backdraft’s data… our scanners are better. Because,” She gave a small nod towards the datapad, “we were able to see into the black box.”  
  
“And by ‘if’ you mean ‘this happened.’”

“We were raided, Bit.”

Bit stared down at the datapad’s screen, suddenly a lot less interested in breakfast. 

* * *

A thick coat, a mug of coffee, a sparse yet warmer-than-outside Whale King. Ehga sat before a small console, watching some show silent and subtitled on a screen.  
  
Ehga had become somewhat concerned when everyone stopped checking in, but chalked it up to communication difficulties brought on by the progress on the array’s removal.  
  
The blustery evening winds caused an occasional sharp creak, one that rose above the static din of the vast, largely-empty transport. 

Little mind was paid to concepts of security or even caution. Perhaps laziness, but also just sense: no one really inhabited this area. Like many areas on Zi, the Mackarays were fiercely inhospitable. The dense metallic forest was difficult for Zoids and humans alike to navigate, discouraging the ZBC from regular patrols. Many kilometers away, the resort town at Mt. Iselina drew mainly skiers in the winter. But they’d be long-frozen before they made it this far out.  
  
In short, a perfect storm of inattention made it all too easy for Brad and Naomi to enter the Whale King undetected, once they’d located it.  
  
Brad disappeared into the shadows, and Naomi crept among sparse crates and walkways to a perfect, obscuring vantage far across the hollow transport’s main bay.  
  
She lined up and glared through her rifle’s scope.  
  
Ehga hadn’t noticed anything. 

Silence and stillness were her forte. Naomi stared at the back of the man’s head for several long minutes, watching his shoulders shake with the occasional chuckle. Her finger slid from the side of the rifle and down to the trigger.  
  
The man turned his head slightly, as if pricked by her gaze. 

It was only brief, only a pause. Then he went back to watching the screen.  
  
Naomi’s throat worked, and she slipped her finger around the trigger. She tried to relax, tried to focus.  
  
Seconds passed. 

A minute. 

She hung frozen, limbs heavy, feeling bolted in place. 

She couldn’t do this.  
  
She couldn’t shoot someone from behind, while they were doing nothing. She couldn’t kill in cold blood. 

Naomi lowered the rifle and glared to one side, inhaling sharply.  
  
Brad was quick to pick up her slack.  
  
She found it somehow relieving that he likewise didn’t take the cold-blooded approach. He shot out the console being watched instead, causing Ehga to startle and right into a defensive pose.  
  
Brad then stepped out of the shadows and confronted the man.  
  
Naomi was too far to hear their first words to each other. She hastened closer. 

* * *

  
“I wasn’t there.”  
  
“I don’t know that.”  
  
The two men stood facing one another in the belly of the dim transport. Dull track lighting threw their faces into hesitant highlight, and both’s breath plumed visibly in the cool air. Brad had his revolver firmly pointed at Ehga, whose hands were raised and empty.  
  
“Cool it, man. I’m not armed.” Egha said.  
  
“Figured.” Brad didn’t budge. “Works for me. Sucks for you.”

Ehga glared. His eyes flicked with thought, attempting to put things together.  
  
“The rest of your Team’s dead.” Brad supplied.  
  
Dark eyes became harder, angrier. “Don’t lie to me.”  
  
“I’m not. Just want you to know that nobody’s coming to help you.”  
  
The larger man’s face became difficult to read. He considered his words carefully. 

“I didn’t take you for the type, Hunter.”   
  
“And I didn’t take Backdraft for the type to abduct people and torture them for weeks.” Brad shrugged. “Shit happens.”  
  
Ehga shook his head. “We don’t keep up with what Backdraft’s doing. We just follow Fuma’s orders.”  
  
“Don’t care. Not an excuse.”  
  
Silence.   
  
“I suppose not.” Ehga took a deep breath, considering his options. There weren’t many good ones. “So... are you gonna fight me like a man? Or just shoot me like a dog?”  
  
“It’s weird how you guys want rules only when the situation’s not in your favor.” Brad dropped the revolver’s aim and fired without warning, a shot in the gut. “Answer’s _dog._ ”  
  
The other man cried out and doubled over, clutching his stomach. _“Fuck! Hunter-_ ” _  
__  
_Brad glanced over his shoulder. Ambient appeared from the plentiful dark and skulked into view, breath pluming broad and hot in the dim light. Ehga recoiled at the unexpected appearance of the beast.  
  
“What the _f…”_  
  
 _~Aye, lad,~_ Ambient said to Brad. _~You done?~_  
  
“All yours.”  
  
“Wh- I- _wait._ Please. I swear.” Ehga looked between both, expression a muted mix of pain and confused horror. “I wasn’t with the Team when they were out after you. I’ve never even piloted the damn Saurers. Hunter, I _swear_ \- I’ll turn myself in to the ZBGF.”  
  
Ambient advanced, and Brad tilted his head.  
  
“Why _was_ the Fuma Team working with Backdraft?”  
  
“You know why! We’re mercenaries, just like you.”  
  
“Just like me? Funny. I don’t recall being hired. Or paid.” Brad smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just fucked.”  
  
Ehga’s expression dropped further, along with his gaze. As he watched blood start to freckle the floor, the reality of the situation - that the remaining Fuma Team pilot was very, very alone - began to sink in.  
  
Atop it all, Brad did have a point. Everyone on the Fuma Team had been asked about piloting the Berserk Fury. And the Berserk Fury bothered Ehga just as much as the Geno Saurers did. 

They were all impressive machines, certainly. But something was off about them. He’d declined to pilot either one. He wouldn’t have wanted to be forced into it either.

“...just orders, man. Just following orders.”  
  
Brad shook his head. “Backdraft is known for screwing mercs over. What was different with you guys?”  
  
The larger man still didn’t look up. “We worked for Alteil.”  
  
“Mm.” That wasn’t interesting. Brad turned and started walking away.  
  
Ehga took a defensive stance as Ambient crept closer, though he had difficulty holding steady. The two’s eyes met.  
  
 _~Y’really think yeh’re going to fight me?~_ _  
_  
“I’m certainly not just going to lay down and die.”  
  
 _~Sure. Yeh’ll fall down and scream, first.~_ _  
_

Brad lit a cigarette and leaned on a nearby console.  
  
Ehga did actually manage to avoid Ambient’s initial strike. The second, too. The Organoid seemed confused, then amused by this, quirking a brow.

_~Donnae embarrass yourself.~_

The two tightly circled, and Ehga tried to break away - through an opening Ambient furtively provided.  
  
Because Ambient didn’t play fair. One lash of its powerful tail swept the man’s feet out from under him, and Ehga’s reflexive attempt at balance saw his entire forearm seized by the monster. 

Ambient chuckled and wrenched the man down by the limb, audibly snapping bone. 

All things considered, Ehga was surprisingly stoic, though his face was wrinkled with pain. He was having a difficult time processing - and honestly a little angry - that he was being brutalized by an Organoid. Which was about as ridiculous as being trampled by an Orudios.  
  
In the corner of his mind where he survived this, it occurred to him that this would be one hell of a tale to tell-  
  
-the Team. 

The Team really was dead. 

If they’d all faced this, they were dead. 

The man’s resolve cracked.  
  
 _~Need my scream, lad.~_ _  
__  
_Ambient hadn’t let go of the man’s arm, and started trying to swallow it. Still quite attached, Ehga staggered to standing as he was pulled upright. He slammed an enraged fist into the Organoid’s snout.  
  
“ _Fuck you!_ ”  
  
Ambient’s optics glinted; it was amused. 

In a single, smooth motion, Ambient let go of the man’s arm, raised a leg, and shoved a splayed set of hindtalons onto his chest instead. This slammed Ehga down onto his back, and Ambient leaned forward heavily. It chuckled as it savored both the man’s intense resistance - and the muffled sounds of his breaking ribs.   
  
The Organoid paused, and squinted. It glanced towards Brad.  
  
 _~Lad, he’s tellin’ the truth about nae bein’ involved. He’s never piloted the Genos.~_ Ambient swung its head back down, chuffing mock admonishment. _~Y’dinnae like my girls? Why not!~_  
  
Not really what Brad wanted to hear. “He’s the last member of their Team.”  
  
That meant nothing to the creature. _~Still want ‘im dead?~_ _  
_  
Brad shrugged. “Up to you.”  
  
Ambient laughed, utterly delighted.  
  
“Hunter! Please. Let me go.” Though the strength had drained from Ehga’s voice, the determination hadn’t. “You’ll never see me again. I swear.”  
  
Brad took a long drag of his cigarette, stepped closer, and met the other man’s eyes.  
  
Ambient brought down a weighty chop of its jaws.

“You’re right. I won’t.”


	14. Chapter 14

It was a victory, in every sense of the word.  
  
So why didn’t it feel like one?  
  
The couple chose to spend the night in the shelter of the Whale King, debating quietly what to do with it. Ultimately it was decided to leave it where it was, for now. Too many potential problems with not only a Backdraft-sourced transport, but also in explaining how the Fluegel Team had just suddenly come to possess one.  
  
The Shadow Fox offered Brad sidelong, unamused regard.  
  
Both Zoids had also been brought into the transport for shelter as well. Once comfortable the Gun Sniper stood still as expected, but the Fox didn’t stay put. It continued to idly nose around the large bay.  
  
Brad watched it in silence, sipping a cup of hot coffee.  
  
Naomi also had a fresh cup of coffee, but instead of drinking it, she’d grown preoccupied with their use of the kettle. 

It’d been handled by the now-dead man not long before. Ehga’s own mug sat, half-empty and oblivious, on the shot-out console. It was probably still warm. Something about that seemed a little wrong.  
  
This had taken them just over a week, all told. A week to ensure that four people would never again cross their paths, or threaten others. She, and Brad, and _that thing_ had murdered four people, and by all rights were going to get away with it.  
  
No. It was not murder, Naomi reminded herself. 

It was ensuring safety. For them, and for others. Putting down dangerous animals. Eradicating cockroaches.  
  
Naomi glanced at Ambient. 

The beast lay off to one side, idly grooming itself.  
  
It had acted so casually. Simply pulling Ehga apart, grotesquely wolfing down parts of the man. Then it’d dragged the rest of his mangled body away and thrown it outside, like so much trash. Then lapped the floor everywhere blood had smeared and run, like it was nothing. Like it was normal.  
  
It wasn’t normal. Right? 

She kept questioning things, largely herself. Wondering if she’d seen it all correctly. 

Had Brad intentionally, grievously wounded someone so the Organoid could basically torment them to death? While yes, she knew they’d arrived with the intention of killing Ehga, her idea of death involved swift dispatch. 

Not… _that_. 

The Organoid’s brief bout of being sociable with her didn’t erase the gleeful slaughter she’d twice now seen it engage in. There was absolutely nothing preventing it from behaving the same way towards her and Brad. Would either of them be able to stop it, if it tried? 

Her mind raced, trying to map out potential weaknesses. Anywhere with that strange, soft synthflesh, like its neck and mouth. Eyes, maybe, they seemed to rely on sight quite a bit. Did they have Cores? Core-conduits?

In a way difficult to articulate, Naomi always felt the basic comfort of being _someone_ dissolve in the Organoid’s presence. She was the cockroach in its eyes, and it made sure she knew it. 

That forced her own attitude into both highlight and perspective, in the form of a tightening unease in her chest.  
  
If only Brad would just make the damn thing go away.  
  
She had to ask.  
  
No, _tell._  
  
Brad had been watching Naomi’s growing discomfort with concern. He gently gestured for her to come closer, to sit with him. 

She did. She went to the man, tucked herself comfortably beside him, and rested her head on his shoulder. He was warm, calm, and _hers_. 

Though fiercely independent and more than capable of handling herself, Naomi ached to lower her guard just as much as Brad did. 

Perhaps that’s why they got along so well. Mutual understanding and support was invaluable in this quietly hostile world.

Sure, things before had always seemed safe and pleasant. But if one stepped - or was forced - outside of what narrow path society demanded, the world’s fangs quickly showed. 

Naomi’s eyes continued to flick with thought. She couldn’t help but think of how thoroughly she’d been dismissed, bringing up Backdraft as the source of her Team’s ills. She’d always assumed the ZBC or ZBGF would be there to help, were it needed.  
  
They hadn’t been. 

The loss of that supposed security grated on her. Much more than she’d thought it would. 

The world was somewhat different now. 

The simplicity with which Koga dropped; it played over and over in her mind. Her lethal precision both exhilarated and horrified her. People were offensively easier than Zoids to take out. She hated that she was even thinking about it. Why wasn’t she disgusted with herself? She _was_ , but...   
  
Brad rubbed her arm gently, then held her close and kissed the top of her head.

“You all right?”  
  
She didn’t want to say no, but yes was a lie. She didn’t want to lie, either.  
  
Her silence answered for her.  
  
“Babe.” Brad shifted and pulled Naomi onto his lap, crossing his arms over her. He slowly kissed the side of her neck. “I’m real sorry it had to be this way. But they’re gone now. For good. We’re safe."  
  
Naomi just nodded.  
  
“And look at it this way. We don’t need anyone else. We took care of things. Ourselves.” Brad grinned a little. “Pretty cool, huh?”  
  
Another nod. She hadn’t actually thought of it that way. She did like that.  
  
“Because, I mean. If we don’t look out for _us_ , who will?” Brad said. Ambient grunted agreeably.

Naomi’s eyes shot to Ambient, wary. Then drifted back to Brad, wariness becoming sad. 

“I don’t like that you’re right about this. But, you are. I’m just... not sure where to go from here.”  
  
Brad smiled, also somewhat sadly. He smoothed the woman’s bangs out of her face.

“Besides ‘back home’, that makes two of us.” Brad gently touched her jawline, encouraging her head to face his. He looked into her eyes as she turned her head. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”  
  
Another nod, along with a furrowed brow. “Obviously. Just…” 

Naomi trailed off, words having no real destination. Brad just held her close.  
  
Silence fell once more. Breathing evened.

Time slipped by. 

Brad dozed off, but Naomi couldn’t. Her gaze was fixed on Ambient.  
  
The Organoid watched her right back, unblinking. It pointedly licked its chops.  
  
Naomi pressed back into Brad. “ _Brad._ ”  
  
Blue eyes opened drowsily. “Mm.”  
  
“ _Make that thing leave._ ”  
  
Brad glanced up to see Ambient just laying there. “Ambient’s n-”  
  
“ _Make it leave!_ ”  
  
“He’s not gonna hurt you.” 

Naomi balled a fist and very clearly wanted to use it, but didn’t. Brad stared at her, looking like a confused, scolded puppy. 

“Why are you afraid of him?”  
  
“Why _aren’t_ you? It fucking eats people!”  
  
“He asks first.”  
  
Naomi gaped for a second. “Oh. Okay. It _politely_ eats people? That’s fine?”  
  
Brad blinked, realizing how that sounded. He sighed and glanced at Ambient. 

“Do you mind… sleeping outside or something?”  
  
 _~Ah mean. Yes. Yes I do. It’s fuckin’ cold.~_  
  
Brad’s pupils pinpointed with an effort he wasn’t quite used to. _‘Outside’, aka ANYWHERE but right HERE. There’s a whole damn Whale King! “_ Please? _”_

~ _Ah. Pleasin’ the bitch. Aye.~_ The Organoid yawned and stood, then made a show of looking put out. ~ _But I wanna watch yeh fuck.~_

Brad raised both brows at the creature.  
  
Ambient chuckled and vanished in a blaze of red.  
  


* * *

The two had dozed off, Naomi feeling better with Ambient out of sight.

But Brad woke sharply, wincing against pain in his gut. Excruciating hunger. He waited for the pain to subside, holding his breath so as not to make a sound.  
  
Naomi had made her way under one side of his jacket and let down her hair. She lay pressed close to the man’s chest.  
  
The Shadow Fox turned its ear then head towards Brad, acknowledgment. It then relayed unease and apprehension. Something wasn’t right. 

Brad reached out to Ambient mentally, only to receive the impression of how deeply asleep and content the Organoid was. 

He sighed.

The Fox’s claws clicked anxiously as it shifted between all four paws. It reflected deep concern: not for itself, not for anything present… but for what it could pick up. None-too-distant Zoids. Very, very upset Zoids. 

Brad squinted up at it. Anxiety rose. Not on behalf of what the Fox communicated. But because nothing should’ve been out there. “Where?”

Naomi had roused and was staring up at Brad, silent. She could tell he was listening to something, and turned her head to follow his frozen gaze. He was staring at the Shadow Fox.  
  
“What is it?” She whispered.  
  
“Dunno. Zoids.” Brad replied absently, though he was quite tense. “It’s got to be the base.” 

Naomi recalled Brad’s statements about the Mackaray base. She frowned. “I don’t want you fucking around with that place.”  
  
From afar, gusto and rile had made destroying the base seem not just like a great idea, but a necessary one. But now all Brad could remember was painfully cold tap water and being abandoned and starved in a cell for days on end. 

Unhappily he recognized it was the _experiences_ he wanted erased. The location was just a convenient, tangible scapegoat. 

He began a response to Naomi, but his words died before being spoken. The Fox’s anxiety was too distracting.

The Gun Sniper had also stirred, and stood observing the Shadow Fox. Naomi watched it shift its head-fins uncertainly, watched it adopt fearful body language. 

She’d been paying more attention to Zoids - her Zoid in particular - since it had apparently saved her life. Before, she’d not really cared to acknowledge how animate the machines were, and how much they seemed to communicate with one another. But she certainly noticed it now. 

And now, it served only to add depth to discomfort. 

The Shadow Fox had started to growl softly, and Brad was shaking his head.  
  
“No,” He said quietly, obviously to the Fox. “No. I’m not - it’s - just go to sleep.”  
  
The Fox growled louder, its strange mechanical trill rising in the back of its tone. 

Naomi glanced between the two.  
  
“No.” Brad said again, clearly annoyed. “I don’t care. No one’s going out there. Go to sleep.”  
  
The Shadow Fox looked at the Gun Sniper, chuffed, then started towards the Whale King’s closed bay door.  
  
Brad watched it with increasing impatience. “ _Fox_ .”  
  
It didn’t stop, opened the bay door for itself, and slunk outside.  
  
Brad stood up, a bit incredulous. He glanced at Naomi apologetically, then ran out after the Zoid.

* * *

“The fuck is your problem?”

Brad irritably zipped his jacket all the way up as he trudged into the bitter cold, squinting into the snow-thick dark around the Whale King. 

The Fox had stopped a distance off and stood gazing Brad’s way. Aggressive snowfall slashed past softly-glowing eyeglass; it would’ve been eerie, were the Fox not a friend.   
  
“You have a lot of nerve, asshole. It’s freezing!” Brad pointed into the Whale King. “Get inside!”  
  
The Shadow Fox reflected how genuinely the distressed Zoids upset it. It rejected Brad’s disapproval, and exchanged with him instead the crush of its own disappointment. Was it too much to ask to see if they could somehow help?  
  
“Yes. It is. Since when do we do charity? It’s dark, it’s cold, I’m tired, an-” 

Obscene hunger slammed him again, painfully intense. It crawled up into his ribs and stung every last nerve on the way. He lost his train of thought.   
  
The Fox relayed concern, but maintained its position.  
  
Brad shook the painful blur out of his vision, trying to sort through the Fox’s behavior. The only sense he could make out of its thoughts was-  
  
Home.  
  
Not _home_ , not _now_. But a past dwelling. 

The Mackaray Base. Of course. Where he’d stolen the Shadow Fox from. It knew Zoids there. For whatever reason many were still there, and - hearing their apparent distress - the Fox was worried about them.

It understood that Brad didn’t like the place. Given recent events, the Fox wasn’t terribly into it either. But it wanted Brad to understand that it _came_ from there. It learned everything it knew prior him, there. The Zoids it could hear were just as familiar to it as Naomi’s Gun Sniper was.  
  
And it would always help Naomi’s Gun Sniper. Wouldn’t Brad also?  
  
“Stop it. That’s different.” Brad sighed through his teeth. He fumbled a lit cigarette into existence, angry at the snow, at the cold, and at his own wind-crazed hair. Worse still, he was still trying to ignore the pain in his gut. He shook his head, and kept shaking it. “I don’t care. Absolutely not.” 

* * *

  
  
“Naomi…” Brad’s voice came over the comm.  
  
“I know, I know.” The woman sighed back quickly. 

The Gun Sniper stalked out of the Whale King, sharing some of it’s pilot’s irritation. “I figure if you have to chase after the damn thing you’re not coming back in.”

Brad stared with apology over the videscreen, shoulders fixed in a shrug. Naomi just looked at him, exhausted.

“You don’t have to come.” Brad said.  
  
Naomi sharply shook her head. “We haven’t gone through all this just for you to fuck off and get lost again.” 

He wasn’t likely to fall off the map again anytime soon, but really couldn’t argue. “Fair.”  
  
Vicious wind whipped through the area, swaying trees and Zoids alike. All were vividly reminded just how inhospitable the region could be. The Fox oriented itself, turned, and forged into the snow. “Follow us, but hang back.”  
  
Naomi’s Gun Sniper pinned its head-fins, visibly irritated. But it started forward when urged. Naomi sighed, watching the Fox move ahead with seeming ease.

“As if there’s another option?”


End file.
